Throw
by sinemoras09
Summary: Tell yourself this is a dream. Itachi's life, before and after the massacre. Collection of oneshots. Gen. female!Shisui x Itachi, others. Spoilers for chapter 402.
1. Part I: Crush

___Author's note: this is my personal head canon of everything that happened to Itachi. Mostly these are all the oneshots I've published separately, but for the sake of organization I've decided to compile them here :) Please note, for continuity purposes I'm making Shisui female (re: references to a female lover in subsequent oneshots, plus the story "Braid," which I wanted to include here)._  


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**Part I**

She stands at the river's edge, waiting in the murky hours just before daybreak. In the distance, she can make out Itachi's figure, waving and backrimmed by watery light.

Itachi lifts his eyes in silent greeting as Shisui taps him on the arm.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Shisui asks. Itachi bows his head.

"Shisui," Itachi says. "You shouldn't have come."

The gulls cry above them, and Shisui frowns.

"It's been a long time," Shisui says. Itachi takes a breath; it's long and drawn and strands of hair moves loosely in the breeze. "Itachi, what's wrong?"

Itachi doesn't answer. Shisui searches his eyes. "Itachi-"

"Shisui-san." Itachi's voice cracks. "I don't know what to do."

There is a horrible, awful moment when neither one of them speaks. Shisui watches as her cousin shrinks up into himself, the strain of whatever it is he's going through cracking on his face.

"They want me to stop it, Shisui," Itachi says. His voice is soft; Shisui has to strain to hear. "They gave me orders - no one can survive."

"What?" Shisui's hands tighten into fists. "You can't mean-"

"Yes," Itachi says. His eyes flick upward. "They want me to slaughter our clan."

A breeze stirs. The grasses around them bend.

"We can't let this happen," Shisui says. "We have to tell the council - we have to move forward!"

"We can't." Itachi's eyes dim. He takes a ragged breath. "Shisui, I-"

"Oi." Shisui steps closer. "Itachi, it's okay. We won't let that happen, we won't-"

A knife plunges into her gut. Shisui's eyes widen.

"Forgive me," Itachi says.

He shoves the knife deeper. She stumbles onto Itachi's shoulder.

"It's called the Mangekyou Sharingan," Itachi says. "It's what will help me deal with our clan."

Another twist. Shisui wheezes, leaning on Itachi's shoulder.

"They say you can attain it by killing someone precious to you," Itachi says. "Someone you love."

Itachi yanks out the knife. She pitches forward, but Itachi catches her. Slowly, he lowers Shisui to the ground.

The blast of healing chakra to her stomach surprises her. The knife wound knits, but it's superficial; her skin is clammy and she's hemorrhaging on the inside.

"So they won't know," Itachi says. And then, softly, "I'm sorry, Shisui."

Shisui tries to speak, but her breath is caught in her throat. Her mouth moves soundlessly, a fish guppy-breathing the air.

Itachi smooths her forehead, then brushes back the damp strands of hair from her eyes. He is crying. Shisui raises a hand toward Itachi's face. Her fingers are limp. Blood smears on Itachi's cheek.

Then she's underwater. Her body is a weight; she sinks, pockets of air bubbling around her, and above the surface she can just make out Itachi's figure standing at its edge.

She doesn't understand.

Her vision dims. She sinks into the cold water, dead dark eyes staring up at the sky.

She doesn't understand.


	2. Somewhere

_ ._

_._

_i._

Blood swirled black in the river as Itachi dully washed his hands, the cold water making his skin go numb and his knees begin to ache. The mission had started, and Itachi was surprised at how training and muscle memory were quick to take over. Just moments earlier, he had watched his only friend sink into the murky water, dead gray eyes staring up at a colorless sky. From far away, he could see lights from the Uchiha quarter winking steadily in the indigo darkness, punctate yellow halos flickering in the dark.

The river groaned, then burbled, almost heaving with the effort to suck Shisui's body into the water. Seaweed stuck to Shisui's mottled limbs, and tiny bubbles rose from the back of Shisui's throat.

xXx

.

The talks fell apart as soon as they started. Hiruzen sat, his mouth a thin tight line, as the Uchiha representatives shouted obscenities at the rest of the council: Koharu and Mitokado seethed with silent rage and Danzou passed knowing glances at his two young attendants, whom Hiruzen was sure were Root, though they had disbanded years ago.

Chairs clattered as the men stood, sharingan flashing and one clan member spitting in Danzou's face.

"Now do you understand?" Danzou said. His voice was low, ominous, even as he wiped the spittle off his cheek; the Uchiha had slammed the doors as they left, but the sound of it still echoed throughout the great hall. "We have danced this ridiculous dance for weeks now, and the Uchiha are nowhere near conceding. We must take action before it is too late."

"And what would you propose?" the councilor asked. Hiruzen's eyes narrowed as Danzou elegantly unfurled the scrap of parchment out from the fabric of his robes.

xXx

.

That night, Hiruzen hunched over his desk, taking the scroll in his hands and silently unrolling the paper. The room was dark except for the half-glow of the orange candle on the desk, and in the muted light Hiruzen could see the plan intricately etched out for the Uchiha extermination. All it needed was a signature.

"Hokage-sama." Danzou stepped forward. "Time is of the essence. All we need is for you to sign."

Hiruzen sighed, then set the scroll back on the table. "I must think."

"But Hokage-sama-"

"Give me one day," Hiruzen said. "I must think this through."

xXx

.

The air was cool and thick when Hiruzen found Itachi at the training grounds; chakra dampened, Hiruzen melded into the background of the night of the forest and watched as Itachi trained. The sinews of his arms flexed and stretched with each studied movement: one strike, then another, the parabola of his sword making a perfect arc through the air.

"You don't have to do this," Hiruzen said, and Itachi turned, moonlight falling on his face. "No one said you had to accept this mission."

A bird flew, the flap of its wings disturbing the silence. There were bruises under Itachi's eyes, and Hiruzen couldn't help but notice the small scratches on his arms, or how tightly he held the kunai in his hand. "And what would become of them if I didn't?" Itachi's voice was low. His eyes flicked upward. "Hokage-sama?"

Hiruzen's heart stilled. His breath and the air around him were cold. "They would die," Hiruzen said. "But not by your hand."

The youth turned sharply, and Hiruzen could see the curve of Itachi's neck and the delicate bumps of his spine, and he was reminded just how young he was, how fragile. The rims of Itachi's eyes were shining, and Hiruzen knew the boy was trying not to cry.

Then his head snapped back up: Itachi's eyes were dark; hard. "I will do what is needed of me," Itachi said. "An eye for an eye, just as Danzou-sama said."

"And when it is through?" Hiruzen asked. "When all your kinsmen are dead and you're the last one standing?"

And at this, Itachi closed his eyes, and gave no answer.

xXx

.

The sun rose, and the grasses were backlit pink with morning dew. The village was waking, and from the high perch of his balcony window, Hiruzen could hear the quiet morning sounds of civilians being shuffled back to life, blinking sleepily as laundry strung on high taut lines flapped with the breeze.

The scroll was still open on his desk. Beside it, remnants of the candle from the night before smoldered slowly, half-melted and the smoke curling up into the air.

"Hokage-sama?" Hiruzen raised his eyes to see the young attendant standing hesitantly before him. "Tea, Hokage-sama?"

The boy had the same bright hopeful eyes as Itachi once had. Hiruzen smiled, sadly. "Yes," Hiruzen said. "I would enjoy a cup of tea."

The boy bowed, then softly closed the door.

Slowly, Hiruzen sat. The joints in his knees ached, and the words on the parchment seemed to him like fabric unraveling in his hands.

_"Will you do nothing, and let the lives of millions come crashing down around you?"_

Genocide or a fourth ninja war. They could gouge out their eyes, but the outcome would be the same.

The pen in his hand burned him.

"Your tea, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen's eyes flicked upward at the boy smiling in front of him, gently placing the teapot on his desk.

His signature was shaky, the ink smudging under his fingers.

xXx

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_ii._

News of Uchiha Shisui's death traveled quickly throughout the village, reaching even the civilian quarter at the northernmost side.

"A suicide," they said. Villagers glanced furtively at the high walls of the Uchiha compound: given the growing animosity between them and the others, outsiders were barred from her funeral. Smoke spun high into the cold air, mixing with the cherry blossoms falling from the trees around them.

He found them just as the sun was setting, walking quietly on the wooded path toward the outskirts of the Uchiha compound. Danzou stepped forward and waited as Itachi nodded politely, his younger brother fingering a shuriken uncertainly and watching them with wide dark eyes.

The child stared up at him. It was dark in the woods surrounding them, and though the boy's eyes were no darker than his own, Danzou imagined them to be bottomless pools, strangely cold and full of sorrow.

xXx

.

There were certain kinds of people Danzou detested: hypocrites and liars, selfish, cowardly men who refused to sacrifice for the greater good. He could see it splattered on the killing fields in ANBU missions gone wrong, the grotesque curve of a child's grimacing mouth, the withered hands of a civilian corpse rotting in the mud.

And the men who've abandoned their posts? Who've succombed to their fear of death and dying and ran to save their own skins?

It was a weakness he knew all too well: even now, decades after the fact, Danzou still thought of that night, the battle where _Hiruzen_ jumped into the fray and sacrificed himself, gaining the title of Hokage while Danzou fretted over his own skin. "I cannot believe you are still fixated on that," Hiruzen said once, and though the old fool would have liked to think Danzou a friend, Danzou had shot him a withering gaze.

xXx

.

Despite what the Hokage believed, (and Danzou bristled at the fact that Hiruzen refused to take responsibility, his signature on the document notwithstanding), Uchiha Shisui was not Itachi's first kill. But somehow, despite Danzou's best efforts and an ANBU track record rivaling the most seasoned jounin, Hiruzen stubbornly and stupidly bore the guilt of Shisui's murder.

"How many missions has he been on?" Danzou asked. "How many combatants has he killed? " The long rectangle of his shadow fell over the Hokage's desk, the yellow slant of light cut in harsh sections from the door. "He is a jounin, Hirizen," Danzou said. "Do not deceive yourself. Uchiha Itachi is no child. He's killed more men than jounin twice his age."

The Hokage sagged; he looked older than his age. Quietly, Danzou stood and walked over to the balcony window, hands clasped behind his back and looking out into the village skyline. In the distance, they could see the choppy silhouette of the Uchiha quarter, dark tendrils of smoke rising silently into the air. "That boy is preparing to murder his family tonight," Hiruzen said. "I cannot help but to worry for him."

"Idiot," Danzou said. "Why must you ruminate on such useless things? Can you not see this is for the best?"

"It is," Hiruzen said. His voice was the barest whisper. Danzou's jaw tightened.

"You are too soft," Danzou said. "Hiruzen. You know I am loyal; the safety of Konoha is all that matters. I would never undermine your authority in front of the others, but you should know that you are weak. Foolish. The price for peace can never be too high, and if I were Hokage the Uchiha would have been wiped out long ago!"

"Then why are you coming to me now?" Hiruzen asked, quietly. "It is past midnight. If you do not care, then why are you here?"

Danzou bristled. Hiruzen closed his eyes.

"It is as I thought," Hiruzen said. "You are human, too."

xXx

.

_iii._

When Shisui's body finally washed back to shore, her skin was pale and gray and her limbs and face were bloated to the point where she was nearly unrecognizable. Uchiha nin gathered, hefting the body with fishing nets and dredging up other bits of detritus from the muddy waters.

"Oh my god," one passerby said, and another one retched in the bushes, the stench of it overwhelming in the summer heat.

Itachi's eyes ached. Somewhere, one of his relatives wailed, clutching the body and sobbing and falling to the ground. Dully, Itachi walked past them, eyes fixed forward and walking along the riverbank. The sun was high and the sky was a bright yellow haze. On the water, his reflection refracted and made broken images on the river's surface; all he could see was the ripples of a current, dead leaves floating as the sun slowly disappeared behind the clouds.

xXx

.

"Nii-san, what's wrong?" Sasuke asked.

Itachi forced himself to smile.

"Your aniki is tired, Sasuke. I must take my rest."

His younger brother nodded gravely, then hugged him around his waist, chubby fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. He was too young to be told. Gently, Itachi pried away Sasuke's fingers and took his hand, leading him toward the training fields behind their home.

xXx

.

If he had been asked, a few years before, who was most precious to him, Itachi would have answered without a doubt that his baby brother was; unlike the rest of his family, Sasuke didn't care about his grades or his ANBU status. But now he knew everyone was equally precious to him, his mother and his father and his stupid older cousin, who tailed him like an unrelenting shadow.

_Shisui_. The thought of her made his chest tight and his gut bottom out. She shouldn't have followed him. She shouldn't have come.

A thin trickle of blood slowly dripped down the edge of his cheek, and Itachi wiped it back, almost an afterthought.

Sasuke fell asleep. Quietly, Itachi moved the old comforter from the bed and draped it over Sasuke's shoulders, taking care to tuck the blanket around the hollows of his body. Shisui had said once that Itachi acted like Sasuke too when he was young, chasing happily after Shisui's footsteps and clinging to the edge of Shisui's leg. Somehow, the memory didn't come to him; another thing Itachi regretted, now.

Sasuke slept. Quietly, Itachi watched the slow rise and fall of Sasuke's breathing, before brushing back the shock of black hair peeking out from beneath the covers.

xXx

.

The moon was a grim silver the night Itachi slaughtered his clan.

He started, of all things, by knocking. Trust and kinship were on his side when the neighbor opened the door.

_Slice_. The body fell with a soft thud, the spray of blood slowly pooling onto the hardwood floor.

Itachi walked, because there were no sentries out. Dust kicked up around his feet as he moved, legs full of lead and his katana hanging listlessly by his side.

Doors opened. "What's this? Itachi...?"

Two shuriken to the stomach. That was another one of his cousins. Footsteps came running.

His Sharingan flashed. Pivoting on a step, he whirled, the blade of his katana slicing through flesh and bone. Screams ricocheted off the cobbled walls and bodies fell around him like leaves.

Slash. Strike. Slash. They were all coming at him now, red eyes open, running toward him. Itachi leapt forward, the chakra springboarding off the soles of his feet and thrusting him toward them, and the Mangekyou whirled, his eyes erupting into a starburst of blackened flame.

His face betrayed nothing. It was only after he had seen Sasuke, after he had cleared the Uchiha periphery and rocketed through the forest downhill, that Itachi staggered forward and vomited, shaking and retching violently, the tears in his eyes smearing the sides of his face with blood.

xXx

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_iv._

Hours passed, and it wasn't until the balcony doors softly opened and the pale curtains billowed around his frame that Danzou and Hiruzen saw him: a specter, a ghost, wraith-like and pale and blood still drying on his hands.

"Is it done?" Hiruzen asked, after Itachi knelt and kept his eyes respectfully fixed on the floor. "Itachi?"

Danzou watched as Itachi's hand shook. His eyes were dead, as was the voice in his throat.

"No," Itachi said.

Danzou shot a glance toward Hiruzen, the muscles in his shoulders tightening imperceptibly. Meanwhile Itachi kept his head bowed; his eyes were unfocused as he spoke.

"Hokage-sama," Itachi said. "I have come, as you instructed. But there are survivors," Itachi said, and he swallowed, hard. "Myself of course. And my brother, Sasuke. I could not..." and he hesitated, his voice straining a bit. "I could not bring myself to do it," Itachi said, and he bowed again, closing his eyes. "Forgive me," Itachi said.

Hiruzen leaned forward, touching Itachi on the shoulder.

"The price for peace cannot be measured," Hiruzen said. "You did well, my child."

"Thank you, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen nodded, then let go of Itachi's arm.

"You did well, young Uchiha," Danzou said. "Despite what you think now, you've saved hundreds of lives. You prevented a war," Danzou said. "I can only hope you take solace in this fact." The youth nodded, his heart in his throat.

"The western gate will be open and unguarded until daybreak," Hiruzen said. "We will give you a day's head start before we make you a missing nin. Hopefully by then you will have given yourself a wide enough berth."

"Understood," Itachi said. Hiruzen smiled sadly, then stood.

"Hokage-sama?"

"Yes?" Hiruzen glanced back at Itachi, who seemed to hesitate on the floor.

"What of my brother?" Itachi asked. "What will become of him?"

Hiruzen started to speak, but Danzou raised a hand.

"Your brother will die a painless death," Danzou said.

"_Danzou,_" Hiruzen said. A sharp rebuke.

"Would you rather I not tell him?" Danzou said. "There is no honor in deceiving him," Danzou said. "I am not that cruel."

Hiruzen frowned. Quietly Danzou moved across the room, picking up the faded scrolls and tossing them at Itachi's feet.

"Contingency plans," Danzou said. "Containment operations. My men are on standby should you stop and fail. And you have failed," Danzou said. "Despite your best efforts, an Uchiha remains. I do not wish to be harsh, captain, but those are the facts. It is, however...understandable."

Itachi's eyes burned; they stayed fixed on the floor.

"I do not envy your position, but he cannot survive," Danzou said. "There is too much at stake. If word got out about the operation, the very foundations of this village will be compromised. He will not suffer," Danzou said. "This I can promise you."

"And what will you do with me?" Itachi asked, quietly. "An ANBU jounin who knows all the secrets of this village's council? If an Uchiha child is such a threat, what will you do with an Uchiha missing nin?"

"Itachi," Hiruzen said. Itachi's eyes were hard.

"Make no mistake," Itachi said. "If you so much as even _touch_my brother, I will sell the secrets of this village so fast your heads will spin."

The ANBU guards clutched their swords. Danzou held up his hand.

"Do not be foolish," Danzou said. "If I give the word, my men _will_ kill you."

"You forget, Danzou-sama," Itachi said. "I just killed one hundred of my kin. Do not underestimate me, lest you want the rest of this village burned as well."

The ANBU guards stepped back. Itachi lowered his guard.

"I've done what you've asked of me," Itachi said. He looked up at the Hokage, pleadingly. "All I ask is that you keep Sasuke safe."

"And what do we tell him?" Hiruzen asked. Itachi lowered his eyes.

"Tell him nothing," Itachi said. His eyes flicked upwards, meeting Hiruzen's gaze. "I would rather he hate me than think poorly of our clan."

Hiruzen hesitated. "...Are you sure?" Hiruzen asked.

Itachi closed his eyes. "Yes," Itachi whispered. Danzou glared.

"Such foolishness," Hiruzen said, and he sounded impossibly sad.

xXx

.

_v._

It was starting to rain. Slowly, Hiruzen watched as the rainwater sluiced down the glass of the balcony window. Lightning flashed, and suddenly he felt older than his years, the bones of his wrists and hands throbbing with a dull ache.

The western gate was open and unguarded as Danzou had promised. Quietly, Itachi pulled over the hood of his cloak, glancing only once before he left the ruins of his home.


	3. Braid

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.

1.

It is the first of many meetings, but Mikoto doesn't listen. While her husband and the other men negotiate - this much of a dowry, this title and this piece of land - Mikoto turns and wanders toward the courtyard, watching her eldest son and the girl he is to marry playing in the grass.

The girl is ignoring him. Mikoto's heart stills as she watches little Itachi standing a few paces behind her, mustering up the courage to speak.

"Go away," Shisui says, and Itachi says nothing, just turns and sits quietly behind her. It takes all of Mikoto's self-restraint to keep from swooping in and gathering the child up in her arms.

xXx

.

That night, Mikoto tucks Sasuke in bed; she doesn't go to Itachi's room, as Fugaku has decreed Itachi is too old to be coddled. She sweeps back Sasuke's hair and smiles.

"Ne, mama?" Sasuke's small face peeks out from under the covers. "What were you and papa doing?"

"We were meeting with your uncle," Mikoto says. "We are arranging for your brother to marry."

"But Itachi-nii is just a kid," Sasuke says. Mikoto smiles.

"It is for when he is older, Sasuke," Mikoto says. "When you are older, you will understand."

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

Sasuke sits up from under the blankets, his small body baby soft and warm against Mikoto's side. "Is it because Itachi-nii doesn't have any friends?"

Mikoto stops. Sasuke crawls beside her, lying his head against her lap. "Sasuke, what do you mean? Of course your brother has friends," she says, but Sasuke shakes his head.

"Everyone is mean to him," Sasuke says. "Itachi says they're jealous. But I think they're just mean."

"Sasuke." Mikoto's eyes dim. She leans forward and kisses Sasuke on the forehead. "I will have word with your brother," Mikoto says. "Do not worry, Sasuke. I will speak with him."

But Sasuke has already fallen asleep, breathing softly against Mikoto's side.

xXx

.

The child is nine years-old, and already she has the devastating aura of prodigy around her. "Just think of it," Fugaku says. "Two prodigies beneath our household. Uchiha Shisui is the only one suited for our son."

But Mikoto doesn't like Shisui. She doesn't like how Shisui ignores him, flash-stepping away and treating him like an irritating shadow. "Go _away_," Shisui says, but Itachi stubbornly follows her anyway, bearing her insults with consummate grace. "Why the hell are you following me, anyway?" Shisui says.

Mikoto knows; Fugaku had sat him down the night before, telling the child they were betrothed now, it was in his best interest to make friends. Itachi takes to it as he took any mission: with a singular determination that makes the other children uneasy. "He's _weird_," his cousins say. Mikoto's mouth presses into a thin tight line as she watches Itachi weaving through the crowd, eyes staring straight ahead, even as the others jeer and call his name.

xXx

.

"Itachi?" Mikoto knocks softly on the door to his bedroom. Itachi looks up.

"Mother," Itachi says. "Can I help you with something?"

Mikoto sighs. Itachi has always been a solemn child, lonely and isolated from the others. She had been against his early graduation from the Academy, arguing with the rest of the Uchiha council that Itachi was just a boy, he needed to interact with other children his age. "He's only seven!" Mikoto said.

"He is deadlier than chuunin twice times his age," they said. "Do not deny this boy his talent, Mikoto. To do otherwise would smother him."

Mikoto had said nothing, but as the months passed her fears were validated. Children his age were afraid of him; the older ones mocked him. And the adults he soon surpassed grew to hate him as well. "Mother?" Itachi says. Mikoto smiles.

"You are getting taller," Mikoto says, and she gently leans Itachi against her side. He closes his eyes at the contact; he is not used to such kindness, and knowing this makes Mikoto sad. "You do not have to go through with it, you know," Mikoto says.

"With what, mother?"

"With the marriage," Mikoto says. Itachi lowers his eyes.

"Father said it was best for the clan," Itachi says. "I only wish to please him."

"You still have a few years, yet," Mikoto says. "You are still too young."

Itachi says nothing. Quietly Mikoto rises, pressing a comforting hand against his head. "I have no doubt you will make the right decision," Mikoto says. "I've always been proud to call you my son."

xXx

.

2.

Shisui bristles at the thought of marriage; she is two years older than her supposed groom, and more talented besides. She flash-steps across the horizon, red eyes spinning as she rages against the clan that would offer her up like a plate of meat, without regard to her thoughts on the matter.

Her father called it a matter of duty; her mother said she was honor-bound to comply.

Shisui grits her teeth. She is about to springboard off the branch and into the air when she sees the two figures training below her.

"Nii-san! You're going too fast!"

Itachi and Sasuke are training by the river. Neither boy sees her; she takes perch on the highest branch and watches, silently. Sasuke throws shuriken like stones and Itachi smiles and corrects Sasuke's form.

"You're doing it wrong," Shisui says flatly, and both Itachi and Sasuke turn. Shisui lazily slides off the branch, tucking back a piece of hair and frowning. "It's not about power, it's finesse," Shisui says, and she moves Sasuke's elbow up a half inch, then motions to widen his stance. "There," Shisui says. Sasuke looks up at Itachi, confused.

Neither of them speak to each other, speaking only to Sasuke as they direct him through his stances. "Your footwork is awful," Shisui says. "Careful where you step."

"You are doing fine," Itachi says. He smiles, encouragingly. He doesn't look at her.

They walk back in silence, Sasuke walking between them and craning his neck upwards, shifting his gaze between his brother and his cousin, uneasily.

A breeze stirs. Shisui can feel her hair catch; she glares, running a hand through her hair, irritated. "You guys are too slow," Shisui says, and she takes a stance and vaults upward, flickering into the air.

xXx

.

Someday, Shisui will be captain of the police force. She doesn't tell anyone else this, though, because Uchiha women do not typically ascend the ninja ranks. "You will have many beautiful children," everyone tells her, and she thinks of her engagement and the huge injustice of it all, she can't even _choose her own husband_, let alone choose not to get married, not in this backwards fucking clan.

The epitome of this, the one whose face makes Shisui's blood boil, is none other than Itachi's mother, Mikoto.

"I heard she was a great jounin, once," Shisui says. Her own mother pays little attention; Shisui huffs, annoyed. "Mom, just look at her! She was the most feared Uchiha jounin in Konoha! But now look," Shisui says. "She's a goddamn housewife, now."

"_Shisui_, watch your language," her mother says. Shisui glowers and stares.

At the clan meetings, Shisui peers around the columns of men standing in front of her, fixing her gaze on Mikoto's face. She's smiling serenely with an apron in her hands. They say Fugaku was hardly a talented ninja, that he was only clan head through Mikoto's help. Her marriage to Itachi would only serve to bolster Itachi's status. The thought of it makes her seethe.

The clan stirs, and her focus snaps back to the meeting: they are no longer allowed to use the Sharingan within the village limits. "By official decree," the elder reads. "The Sharingan can only be activated within the Uchiha quarter; anything outside our missions can be taken as an act of aggression..."

Shisui glances toward Itachi, whose small face is pale. "You don't see them doing this with any of the other bloodline limits!" someone says. "Fucking Konoha dogs!"

Shisui igores them, and quietly slips out back. It's not until she hears the ensuing scuffle that she returns.

xXx

.

Itachi had defended the village. She wasn't there to hear it herself, but he had argued that the Sharingan was a weapon, and as such it was reasonable to keep it under wraps. Whatever ire he had inspired in the rest of the clan has increased tenfold, and Shisui watches, transfixed, as the rest of the Uchiha children surround him, some carrying weapons, a not-so vague threat. "My father says you're a traitor!" one Uchiha boy says. Itachi glares and little Sasuke jumps in front.

"Stop it!" Sasuke says. "Leave nii-san alone!"

Oh, this would not do. Shisui pushes past the crowd and takes a stance. Itachi is startled. "Shisui-san?"

"Shut up," Shisui says, and she grips her kunai.

"What the fuck?" the crowd glares. "We're not fighting a fucking girl."

"What? Afraid of getting your asses kicked?" Shisui says, and she rushes forward.

Uchiha Shisui is not ladylike. There is no elegance in the way she spins and drop-kicks the fuckers out into oblivion. She fights and spits and claws her way through the crowd, a curly-haired dervish spinning into the fray.

"Yeah!" Shisui says, and she pumps a bloodied fist. "That's right, _suck my cock_, bitch, go run to your mamas, I'm sick of you all!"

Itachi covers Sasuke's ears. He's staring at her, wide-eyed.

Sasuke breaks free, grinning. "Wow! Shisui-san! Can you teach me how to fight like that, too?"

Shisui grins, then ruffles Sasuke's hair. "Only if you eat your vegetables," Shisui says. She glances up at Itachi, and her smile fades.

"Hey," Shisui says. "I know you could've defended yourself. But your brother's here, and I just thought-"

"No," Itachi says. "It is all right. Thank you, Shisui-san."

He is shaking. Shisui frowns.

"Well, okay then," Shisui says. "I'll see you around."

xXx

.

3.

Years pass, and what started as a grudging sort of tolerance blossoms into something more.

Itachi walks down the market and catches sight of an old woman peddling jewelry by the street. He moves quietly, reverently touching the glass beads as they catch the thin sunlight. The woman smiles.

"Have you got someone special, young man?" she asks. Itachi hesitates.

"I think so," Itachi says. He rolls the beads like a rosary, then reaches into his pocket for his money. He thinks of Shisui and smiles quietly to himself, watching as the old woman wraps the jewelry box with faded paper.

xXx

.

Shisui stares at him like he's got two heads. "I'm not wearing this," Shisui says. Itachi stands awkwardly as Shisui gapes at the necklace, the delicate chain reflecting the light. "The fuck were you thinking? You shouldn't have wasted your money."

"I thought you would like it," Itachi says, quietly. Shisui snorts, then snaps the jewelry case closed.

"I'm still not marrying you," Shisui says.

"No one said you were," Itachi says. Shisui watches him suspiciously before breaking out into a beautiful smile.

"Here," Shisui says, and she stands on her toes and sweeps Itachi's hair back. He startles a little before he realizes what she's doing: she's fastening the clasp of the necklace around his neck. She nods in approval.

"It looks better on you, anyway," Shisui says. Itachi touches the beads with the tips of his fingers and follows her down the river.

It is a strange friendship, built mostly on pity on Shisui's part. Stupid little cousin, following her around like an irritating shadow, Itachi knows what she thinks. But slowly she had grown to depend on him as well, waiting at the edge of the pier after a particularly grueling mission. Itachi never spoke much - Shisui did most of the talking for them - but sometimes, in her exhaustion, she would lean her head close, and soft tendrils of hair would fall on Itachi's shoulder. If he moved slightly, he would brush up against Shisui's arm, or accidentally brush the tips of her fingers against his own. But he never did; he was content to sit in a warm silence beside her, listening to her stories and feeling comforted by her proximity alone.

xXx

.

He stands in an open field, the mouth of the sky darkening with the coming rain.

Rainwater falls in thick, slick drops around Itachi's feet, mixing with the wet dirt and blood and coagulating into a thick paste. Itachi turns, his boot squelching in puddles, and slowly sheathes his sword. Around him, bodies are littered like broken toys, slash marks cut across their chests and bleeding into the ground.

"Nii-san!"

Itachi opens the door only to see his little brother barreling toward him; he takes a side-step back, pushing Sasuke roughly to the side.

"Sasuke, do not come close. I still must take off this uniform," Itachi says.

"Aww! Nii-san, you never let me play." Sasuke sits and pouts and waits as Itachi dully peels off his flak jacket and discards his heavy breastplate; there are cuts and bruises across Itachi's arms, and his fingernails are caked with another man's blood.

His arms ache. Slowly Itachi kneels, pulling off the straps to his shin guards and untying the knot in his hair. Sasuke crawls on his knees beside him, picking up his ANBU mask. It bothers Itachi how fascinated Sasuke seems to be with it, watching his little brother trace the painted war markings with his small hands.

"Sasuke, come here," Itachi says, and with difficulty he hoists Sasuke up and carries him into the next room. Sasuke squeals, "Nii-san, you're going to drop me!" and Itachi sets him down on the bed. He straightens, then on afterthought, hands Sasuke one of his stuffed animals. Sasuke cuddles it to his chest and flops over on his side, burrowing into the sheets as Itachi pulls the blankets over him.

"Go to sleep, little brother," Itachi says. He stands at the doorway a moment, then switches off the light.

The rest of the house is quiet. Itachi steps into the shower and rolls his neck against the warm water. He could fall asleep like this, standing beneath the hot spray of water, but he forces himself to stay awake. The cuts on his arms sting, and the gash on his side is still weeping blood.

He switches off the light. Quietly, he pads barefoot toward his room, toweling off his hair and sitting heavily on the mattress. The time on the digital clock reads 3:18 and Itachi knows he has another mission briefing in just two short hours. He pulls the covers over himself, sinking into the pillow and closing his eyes.

There is a sound; rocks thudding softly on the corner of his window. Itachi opens his eyes and pushes back the curtains; there in the courtyard, Shisui is tossing rocks at his window, motioning for him to come down.

Itachi sighs heavily; he is too tired to move. Evidently this makes Shisui angry, because she flickers upward and soon enough, is clumsily trying to break into his bedroom window.

"Hard mission?" Shisui asks, when she finally climbs inside. Itachi nods and Shisui touches him lightly on the arm. Shisui has no idea that he's become ANBU, the sudden promotion being a reaction to the growing Uchiha threat that's brewing at the darkest corners of the village. "God, you're all beat up. Where the hell did they send you, anyway?"

"Iwa," Itachi says. He can barely open his eyes.

Shisui lies next to him, but not so close that they actually touch. "I was worried about you," Shisui says, and Itachi wants nothing more than to curl up into the spaces of her neck and chest, wants to steal comfort from something that was never there. Shisui reaches a hand out, then gently brushes back a strand of hair from Itachi's face. Her eyes are blind with tenderness then, and if Itachi concentrates hard enough, he can pretend that Shisui loves him, too.

He falls asleep like this, warm and not alone.

xXx

.

It is not supposed to happen, but someone catches sight of his ANBU tattoo, and soon all hell breaks loose.

"Traitor!" the crowd shouts and Itachi is cornered. "Fucking ANBU dog! How the fuck could you betray your clan like that?"

Ribs crack; the smash of a wooden club slams into his shoulder and breaks in half; Itachi staggers forward, coughing blood.

Somewhere, in the dim corners of his mind, Itachi can hear Shisui running. Leaps up into oblivion, then flash-steps into a brilliant white.

xXx

.

4.

There is a reason why Shisui allowed Itachi to become her friend; she had been sitting with Sasuke on a log, sharing a canteen of water and staring at the sky, when Sasuke turned to her and tugged on her sleeve. "Ne ne, Shisui-san. Do you think you can be friends with Itachi, now?"

"What?" Shisui startled, staring down at Sasuke, confused. "Your brother is annoying. And your parents want me to marry him anyway, so it doesn't matter."

Sasuke's eyes dimmed. He stared at the ground, digging his toe into the dirt. "What?" Shisui said. "I still like you, you know."

"Yeah, but..." Sasuke hunched into himself. "Nii-san doesn't have any friends," Sasuke said. "And he likes you a lot, and I think it hurts his feelings."

"Shit," Shisui said. She poked a stick into the ground. "You really know how to lay on the guilt, huh?" She broke the stick in half, then stood. "Fine," Shisui said. "But I'm not marrying him."

"Really?" Sasuke's eyes lit up. "Shisui-san, you'll be friends?"

"Whatever," Shisui said, and she took a swig from her canteen.

xXx

.

They're taunting him again; it is not the first time. Through the years, she has seen firsthand how the rest of the clan shuns him, how his patriotism for his mother village only brings derision and anger among the others. Even with Shisui with him, the others only grudgingly tolerate his presence, as if his very being offends their senses. "Fucking assholes," Shisui says. "Come on, Itachi. Let's go to the river."

She felt sorry for him. Slowly, Shisui began to understand why Itachi had so fiercely clung to his little brother, the only other clan member who didn't seem to openly hate him. It offends Shisui's sense of justice, which over the years had been honed to a fine point. She befriended him precisely because it made the others angry. She let him sit beside her at the banks of the river, watching the tall grasses bend and the sunlight bouncing off the still waters across them. It felt less lonely this way, sitting at the water's edge and watching the sun start to rise.

xXx

.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Shisui says.

Itachi sits in front of her, quietly letting her wipe the blood from his face. Shisui moves angrily, grabbing bandages and a basin of water and slamming them onto the table. "Shit, Itachi. You could have wiped the floor with them. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"There was no need." Itachi winces slightly as Shisui digs the cloth into a particularly deep cut in his temple. "They only wish to bait me. I would not give them the satisfaction."

"Idiot," Shisui says. She wrings the cloth in the water and roughly shoves it against Itachi's lip. "Yeah, it's gonna hurt, moron. That's what you get for letting yourself get beat up."

Itachi takes the abuse as he always does; docilely, with that fucking infuriating gentleness that makes Shisui want to kick things. Quietly, he leans his cheek against the palm of Shisui's hand, closing his eyes.

Shisui's mouth tightens. She yanks her hand away, then wrings the blood-soaked cloth in the water.

Methodically, Shisui begins searching the room for medicinal balms, rummaging through the cabinets and palming the small jars in her hand. In-between shelves, she flash-steps, mostly out of habit, but also because it can quicken the process somewhat, and she doesn't like the way Itachi keeps bleeding. "Fucking idiot," Shisui says. She flash-steps again, pulls out another jar. "I'm not a fucking medic nin, jesus."

Itachi says nothing. She turns and sees his eyes are lowered. She sags slightly, then sits heavily beside him on the bed.

"Oi," Shisui says. "You know why I'm putting up with this, right?"

"Why?" Itachi says. He doesn't look at her; he looks tired and sad.

Shisui leans against him. "Because my future husband has a fucking martyr complex, and it pisses me the hell off."

_Husband._ The word drops from her lips like nothing, but she feels Itachi's muscles tighten at the word. He moves to reach her eyes, and Shisui glares, blushing.

"Fuck you," Shisui says, and she stands up again. Itachi watches her, awestruck. She pulls out a jar of medicinal cream and roughly presses her fingers into the cut.

Their eyes meet. Shisui's breath catches. Her fingers gently brush the bruise on his skin.

Because he looks so lost (or at least, that's what she tells herself), she gently touches his face, letting her fingers lightly graze the skin beneath his eyes. She kisses the cut above his lip, gentle-as-you-please and with a certain steadiness that surprises her. He doesn't protest when she pushes him back against the mattress, straddling his lap. The kiss deepens, and she feels him pressing his hands around her waist.

"You're hard." Shisui's eyes widen, slightly. Itachi blushes and glares.

"It cannot be helped," Itachi says, and Shisui laughs softly, bumping her face against his neck and smiling as she kisses the side of his jaw.

xXx

.

There are certain things that become routine: training, the feel of the wind while flash-stepping through the trees; on the outside, it is miraculous, but to Shisui it is as mundane as breathing. "I don't get what the big deal is," Shisui says. She's lying shirtless against Itachi's chest, absently trailing her fingers against his collarbone. "You could probably do it, if you tried."

Itachi doesn't answer, and Shisui knows he's too distracted by her body draped across his chest to listen. "Oi," Shisui says. "I'm talking to you."

He turns his head slightly; there's something in his eyes. "Shisui," he says.

"What?"

"You are naked," Itachi says. His eyes are dancing. Shisui huffs, feigning annoyance.

"Yeah, so?"

"I have never seen a naked woman before."

Shisui stops. She leans backward, giving Itachi full view of her breasts. He politely averts his eyes.

"Oh boy," Shisui says. She grabs Itachi's hand and presses it against her breast. His eyes widen. "You can touch them, if you want."

She can tell Itachi's throat is dry. Tentatively he moves his hand, then brushes his thumb across her nipple. A furious blush spreads across his face; he stares down her breast with one determined look, then moves to inelegantly swipe his tongue around her nipple.

Shisui laughs. She bends her head, curls falling over her as she clasps his face with both hands. He's hard again, and Shisui gasps a little as he pushes up inside her, thrusting and burying his face against her neck. Already the novelty of this act has worn off, and it feels as natural and normal as breathing.

Itachi's hair is down. Somehow in the course of their lovemaking, his hair had come undone from his ponytail. Shisui has never seen it down before. She twines his hair in her hands, combing through the loose strands curiously. "You have such pretty hair," Shisui says. She's giddy and stupid from the last two times they've had sex, but she doesn't really care. "My hair gets frizzy and puffy. Your hair is nice and soft."

"I like your curls." Itachi's voice is low and sonorous; he laughs quietly into her skin. Absently, Shisui begins to twist his hair in her hands, braiding it the way she's seen her mother do when she was a child.

"What are you doing?" Itachi says.

"I'm making you look pretty," Shisui says. Itachi turns.

"You're...you're using the _sharingan_?" he says. "You're just braiding-"

"Shut up," Shisui says. Itachi smiles into her neck.

"Even I know how to braid, Shisui," Itachi says.

"Because you're a _girl_," Shisui says. Itachi grips her by the arms and rolls her onto her back.

"Do I feel like a girl?" Itachi says, and his voice is breathy and low and Shisui shivers beneath him.

"_Yes_," Shisui says, because she's vindictive, but also because he feels _so fucking good_ as he slides up inside her.

xXx

.

Sometimes, the enormousness of their relationship comes crashing down like the weight of a thousand bounders, and Shisui finds it difficult to breathe. The specter of Uchiha Mikoto and all the female Uchiha above her leers at her from the depths, and Shisui shuts her eyes at the inevitability that she will grow old, she will be discarded, that she too is destined to be confined in prison of another man's home. The injustice incenses her, and sends her into a silent rage.

"You can still make captain," Itachi says, one day.

His breastplate is heavy in her hands; slowly, she runs her thumb against the dull edge of it, frowning slightly as she does.

"Look at your mother," Shisui says. She sets the breastplate down, searching Itachi's eyes. "The most talented jounin in the Academy. And now what is she doing? Washing dishes. They would sooner promote a dog than make a woman captain."

Shisui jabs the ground with her stick, glaring. Itachi's eyes are trained carefully on the ground.

"My mother never liked fighting," Itachi says. His eyes flick upward, meeting hers. "Just because you have a talent for killing doesn't necessarily mean you have to use it."

"Bullshit." Shisui stands, rubbing her hands. "What the fuck do you know about it? You're fucking ANBU now, the fucking elite-"

"Because my father pushed me to." Itachi stands, matching her height and more. "Shisui. If I had my way, I would not even be nin."

"Well good for you. At least you have the option." Shisui's face is pinched. She moves past him, her Sharingan starting to spin.

He grabs her arm before she can flash-step forward, yanking her toward him and making her nearly lose her balance. "Fuck!" Shisui says. "Let me go!"

"Understand," Itachi says, and he voice is low, and he's standing close, and she can feel the heat off his skin. "When we marry, I would not force you to do anything against your will. You know this, Shisui."

Shisui breathes. Itachi's eyes slowly move to meet hers, and she sees that subtle flash of red begin to recede. "So what? The great Uchiha Itachi would be a stay-at-home wife?"

Itachi's mouth quirks. She feels his grip loosen around her bicep. "Civilian, perhaps. I am a man, Shisui-san. I would not be a very good wife."

"Huh," Shisui says, and Itachi leans forward, dropping a soft kiss against her forehead.

xXx

.

The next day, Shisui wears the necklace Itachi had given her. When she sees him, she can see his breath catch; Shisui rolls her eyes and pushes past him.

"I felt like wearing it," Shisui says. She lets him take her hand. "It isn't as ugly as I thought it was."

xXx

.

5.

Mikoto stands by the bedroom window, where she can see Itachi and Shisui walking down the old dirt path. The moon is out, and Shisui's curls are backlit silver from the moonlight. She can't hear what they're talking about but Shisui's head is thrown back in an outraged laugh, and Itachi's mouth quirks into a smile.

Something shifts, then, and Mikoto watches as Shisui steps close, the long line of her neck dipping as her body curls around her son's; demurely, Mikoto turns, letting the curtain fall over her line of sight. This is what young love is, Mikoto thinks. She sidles close to Fugaku's body, dropping a kiss on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

xXx

.

The summer Shisui is promoted to captain, the first female Uchiha in the police force to do so, a decree from the Hokage compound comes to pass: the Uchiha are to relocate. Fugaku shakes and the council's voices rise, but Danzou stands, impervious to their threats, as he tonelessly delivers the news.

"Do not take this to heart," Danzou says. "Because of the reconstruction efforts, many clans are forced to re-locate. You are not alone."

"Konoha dog," someone says. Danzou floats past them, hands behind his back, his robes fluttering quietly.

"Itachi," Danzou says, and Itachi's head snaps up. "See to it that the relocation efforts go quietly. We are counting on you."

Itachi says nothing. Quietly, Mikoto presses a hand to her son's shoulder. "No one blames you," Mikoto says, but Itachi pulls away.

xXx

.

Mikoto notices their relationship has strained. In the clan meetings, Itachi's face is pinched, and when Shisui sits next to him and murmurs that everything will be okay, that the clan will win out in the end, Itachi stands abruptly and pushes open the door.

The list of injustices Konoha has wrought is too long to count. Mikoto watches as Fugaku rolls the scroll in his hands, the weight of their segregation too heavy to bear.

"You are our pipeline, Itachi," Fugaku says, and Itachi's eyes lower, straining toward the ground.

xXx

.

Mikoto overhears him when he ends it quietly, standing motionless in the inky dark.

"What?" Shisui says. Her police emblem gleams. "What do you mean, you're ending it? What are you talking about?"

Itachi says nothing; his hair moves slightly in the wind. "We are in different places, you and I," Itachi says. "I do not wish for you to get hurt."

Shisui stops. Her eyes burn like bright red coals.

"There are people who love you. People who care. And you're just going to throw all that away?" Shisui's face cracks; tears well up, then spill. "I don't know why you're being like this," Shisui says.

"Forgive me," Itachi says, and Shisui starts to cry.

xXx

.

6.

When they were young, they ran barefoot on the grass, catching fireflies and laughing in the dark. Shisui would fall on her back, hair tousled in loose curls, and she would clasp Itachi by the hand and pull him down with her. _ "When we have kids, I hope they look like you," Shisui says, and Itachi smiles and searches her eyes._

Sometimes, the memories are difficult to handle.

Itachi stands silently as Kisame delivers the final death-blow to the hapless shinobi who had gotten in their way. His sword sings, arcs across the dark gray sky and hits; blood drips down the hilt, and Kisame leers and licks his hand, savoring the blood.

In the weeks before the massacre, Shisui had followed him like a relentless shadow. It had become her mission, to trail the once lover and find proof of his betrayal. It had been almost a year since they had spoke, and though Itachi knew he had been followed, knowing Shisui was the one trailing him was a strange kind of comfort. His Mangekyou spins, reminding him.

_The finishing blow landed squarely in the center of her stomach; she buckled forward, coughing up blood._

_Itachi caught her as she pitched forward, and he fell to his knees, cradling her body as he laid her out onto the ground. He held her there as she took the last agonal breaths of a swimmer dying, hugging her tight as the death tremors shook and her eyes faded into a milky haze. It wasn't until Itachi moved to check her pulse that he saw the small pale beads catching the moonlight, and the silver chain lying across her skin._

_Itachi couldn't breathe. He glanced up at Shisui's face, knowing it had been almost a year since he had last spoken with her, that whatever love for him she had should have died and withered away. But it hadn't. Dully he pressed the tips of his fingers to the skin of her neck, and slowly began to weep. He wept and wracked his eyes, sobbing into her shirtfront, and it wasn't until he slowly sat up again that he realized he had been weeping blood._

Quietly, Itachi fingers the beads around his neck, as had become his habit. The sky opens, and rain falls, mixing with the muddy earth and swirling black with blood. Kisame rises and pushes back the slick of rain from his eyes, grinning slightly as he does.

"You look distressed, Itachi-san," Kisame says. He shakes the blood off his sword and sheathes it behind his back, one graceful, elegant movement. "I can't imagine what a cold guy like you is thinking. But it's obviously nothing good."

_"There are people who love you!" Shisui had said. Rain streamed down her face like tears, the waters of the Nakano crashing onto the shore. _

Kisame is watching him. The rain falls, his cloak sticking to his skin. "Itachi-san?" Kisame says. Itachi's eyes flick upward to meet his.

"We head north," Itachi says. "We will catch up with Sasuke, soon."

.

.


	4. Running

_._

.

He was running.

Moonlight streamed down the valley, and the only sound was his own jagged breathing as he pushed past the trees. He rocketed downhill, his chest tight and feet pounding, but his foot caught a root and he pitched forward, too overwhelmed to prevent the fall.

His shoulder slammed against the hard ground, stirring up the flock of crows that had been perched on the trees. They flew, an angry black cloud, cawing and flapping above him.

Itachi rolled onto his back and looked up, catching his breath and watching the black feathers drifting in the dark.

xXx

.

The Hokage had given him three days to leave the village; conveniently, the south gate had been unguarded and left open.

"We will search for you," the Hokage said. He stepped forward, then clasped Itachi on the shoulder. "You will die if you are caught. Do you understand?"

Itachi's eyes were hooded. "Yes."

The Hokage's face was drawn. "Such foolishness," he said, and his eyes were sad.

Danzo stepped forward and offered Itachi his hand.

"Peace has no price," Danzo said. "Raise your head and be proud; a true shinobi sacrifices for the good of all."

xXx

.

The village was a nondescript one; men on bicycles passed, and women walked with baskets by their hip, stopping by the markets and arranging vegetables by the sidewalk. Itachi walked, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak, blending into the crowd.

It has been days since Itachi has eaten anything; weeks since he'd found lodging indoors. The money the Hokage gave him was running out; he fingered the coins in his pocket, frowning. He could afford a little rice with what he had left; after that, he wondered what he would do.

There was a child begging on a street corner. Her face was smudged and she held a basket in her hand. Wordlessly, Itachi stepped forward and dropped the coins into her basket.

"Thank you," she said.

Itachi turned and walked away.

xXx

.

"Thief!"

Itachi ran, swiftly dodging the crowds while the men behind him gave chase. He had thought he had pocketed the apple without anyone seeing, but apparently one of the customers was nin.

"Oi!" the ninja said. "Teme!"

Itachi leapt over the cart of cabbages, nearly knocking the stand over from the momentum. The men followed after him. "Oi!"

He couldn't use his sharingan - the fear of discovery prevented him from doing so - and though he was certainly more powerful, he didn't want to hurt them, either.

"Where'd he go?"

The grocer and the ninja stood at the alleyway, looking left and right.

A kunai whistled through the air.

"He's over there!" They turned and ran the opposite direction. Itachi let out a sigh, then palmed the apple in his bag.

xXx

.

It was raining, and Itachi took shelter in a nearby cave. The firewood he gathered was too damp for fire, but Itachi was able to muster enough chakra for a fire jutsu, and soon enough a small fire blazed in the cave. Itachi reached into his pocket and pulled out the faded picture of his family. Carefully, he touched the faces with the pads of his fingertips: his mother's soft smile; his father's stern eyes. His little brother smiling and hugging Itachi's arm.

His eyes were wet, and he hated himself for it. He clenched his jaw and stuffed the picture away, curling up on his side and pulling his cloak tight around his arms.

xXx

.

There were several nights where Itachi was close to killing himself.

Sitting in the dark, he would take his kunai and drag the dull side of the blade along his wrist, silently counting the vital points where he could strike: jugular; radial; femoral.

Then he'd think of his brother, and he'd feel ashamed.

xXx

.

Itachi had slaughtered more than just nin that night. He killed civilians and children as well. Itachi pressed a hand to his eyes, remembering. It was the one night the Uchiha nin were not away on missions; there was a festival, a clan holiday with a feast the next day. It was for that reason Danzo and the others had insisted Itachi move on that night, though the expected coup was still weeks away.

xXx

.

The first civilian he killed, after the sentries and his uncles next door, was a little girl. She was wearing a pink nightgown; she was gathering fireflies in the courtyard.

His sword sliced through her like air; her mother and grandmother died just as easily.

xXx

.

He didn't stop to think about it until the mission was through; it was days before he let himself feel anything.

Itachi spent the first night alone with his knees curled up to his chest, unable to sleep and shaking.

The second night he vomited blood.

xXx

.

Slowly, Itachi came to the conclusion that if he could not live for Konoha, he would at least ensure its safety from the outside: Madara had disappeared hours after the massacre occurred, and Itachi wasn't sure he would keep his promise.

_"Help me destroy the Uchiha, and in exchange, you must promise not to lay a finger on the rest of the village."_ Foolish. Itachi should have killed him, then and there.

He fingered a shuriken and frowned.

xXx

.

Itachi woke, but it was not yet daybreak. The fire died. He wasn't alone.

Itachi sprang up, narrowly escaping the kunai which were thrown his direction. He whirled around and saw the coterie of ANBU nin surrounding him.

His sharingan flashed. Three were neutralized but two were still standing.

Itachi's eyes narrowed. Hyuuga.

"Byakugan!"

The Hyuuga nin charged forward.

Itachi's eyes flashed; his sharingan spun.

xXx

.

Itachi staggered forward, panting and clutching his arm. It was the first time Itachi used the Mangekyo Sharingan since the massacre, and his eyes burned.

Itachi fell to his knees, coughing. He raised a shaking hand and was surprised to find blood.

Of course.

He passed out for hours afterward.

xXx

.

Itachi's body was slowly failing him.

The Uchiha were fire-breathers, able to set flame to the chakra out of their lungs. The technique demanded perfect control: any inner turmoil, any conflict with the soul and mind, could increase the pressure and cause the chakra to break on the inside. The user would eventually drown in his own blood.

Itachi didn't know this. All he knew was that the light was slowly fading from his eyes.

xXx

.

When Itachi was young, before he was nin and before the sharingan manifested itself, he and his mother would go to the market, just the two of them, his mother holding his hand and swollen with child.

Those times were the best times.

It was hard to remember, now.

xXx

.

The ninja hunting him was no jounin. Itachi turned, surprised to find the chuunin inexpertly fumbling for his knife.

As it turned out, the man had a vendetta: his lover was an Uchiha, and he sought to avenge the clan. Itachi defended himself, but the man was wild, his katana swinging violently.

The kunai flashed; the man fell, blood spurting from his neck as he tumbled onto the ground.

Itachi crouched low and watched the man's face as he struggled to breathe. His mouth moved soundlessly, the blood pooling around his throat.

Itachi made sure the blow that came was quick: in all his travels, the one thing Itachi was still good at was killing without pain.

xXx

.

Madara was close. Itachi could feel it. Slowly he reached back for his katana.

The door opened. Itachi held his breath, then leaned back into the shadows. Four men in black cloaks and red clouds; Madara in an orange mask.

Itachi's eyes widened as Madara seemed to appear from nowhere, blocking Itachi's exit and slamming him against the wall.

"So you've found me, Uchiha Itachi. Or should I say, I've found _you_."

And Madara loosened his grip around Itachi's neck; Itachi could almost feel him smile.


	5. Your Kingdom's Border

_"I come to speak for your dead mouths / Speak through my speech, and through my blood." - Pablo Neruda.  
_

_.  
_

**I.**

The day after the Uchiha massacre, the Village's chuunin were dispatched to clear the bodies, zipping them up in body bags and hefting them into wooden wagons normally used for transporting vegetables into the town square. It was a warm day, a humid day, and as such the chuunin working had to tie handkerchiefs around their faces to keep the stench from reaching their nostrils.

For some reason, the Sandaime was reminded of the night of the Kyuubi attack. The Fourth had died and the village was devastated, but somehow, the Leaf and its denizens had banded together, moving forward and clearing all evidence of that night's attack. But now, the nin moved grimly, and the Sandaime was wise enough to know it was because the Uchiha had been slaughtered by one of their own. _If only they knew_, the Sandaime thought. He sighed, then pulled the visor over his eyes.

xXx

.

The Sandaime watched as Sasuke was being questioned by ANBU investigators, eyes dim and his hands stuffed in his pockets. The Sandaime hated the pretense; though the ANBU working with Sasuke had no knowledge of the attacks - only the higher ANBU officials and the council of elders - it still seemed unnecessarily cruel.

"Do you remember what he said?" the investigator asked.

"He said he wanted to see if he could do it," Sasuke said.

"And?"

"And he did," Sasuke said. The investigators glanced at each other, uneasily.

"How was he before?" the investigator asked. "Was he acting strange? Anything peculiar?"

"He got in a fight." Sasuke kept his eyes lowered. "A bunch of guys from my dad's squad said he killed my cousin. Then he beat them up."

"And before that?"

Sasuke's eyes dimmed. "We were sitting on the porch. He was talking to me."

"What about?"

"On what it's like to be brothers. He said he'd be there for me." Sasuke's eyes filled with tears.

"Enough," the Sandaime said. The ANBU investigators looked up, then stepped away from Sasuke, who was hugging himself, tight. The Sandaime managed a weak smile.

"You must be tired," the Sandaime said. "I think we have enough information for now."

Sasuke nodded, and the Sandaime was struck at how much like his older brother he looked. They had the same wide eyes and the same trusting face, though Sasuke looked more tired and sad.

The Sandaime watched as Sasuke walked back, hands in his pockets and feet scuffling against the ground, and wondered to himself if this was the price for peace.

.

.

**II.**

Tenzo set the folders down, then rubbed the back of his neck.

At the Uchiha compound, the investigators had meticulously photographed every inch of blood-stained evidence, filing them neatly for their documents. "This is an exercise in prevention," Tenzo had told his men, and he set the photos down on the table. "Uchiha Itachi was one of our own. We can't let this happen again."

Outside, it was getting dark, and Tenzo switched on a light. He flipped through the photos when there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?"

The door opened. "Taichou." The medic nin met him with a stiff bow. "We have the results of the first few autopsies."

Tenzo stood, then followed the medic into the morgue.

xXx

.

The hum of the cold fluorescent lights above him didn't do much for Tenzo's headache, but he gamely watched as the medic nin uncovered one of the bodies. "Look," the medic nin says. "See these lacerations? They cut through the bone. But look at this," and the medic nin pulled open the dead man's eyelid, shining a light into the eye. "See? The iris is gone."

"What?" Tenzo squinted. The eye had been cut, mutilated, the remnants of what was the sharingan looking back at him.

"What is this?" Tenzo asked. "Did Itachi do this?"

"We don't know," the medic said. "But what we do know is that it's the same pattern as Uchiha Shisui a few weeks prior; someone had robbed his eyes, too."

xXx

.

Among the ANBU ranks, many shinobi were afraid.

"He just snapped." They whispered furtively to themselves, stunned that Itachi - quiet, unassuming, diligent Itachi - would do something as horrible as this. "He didn't even like to kill," they said. Tenzo pushed past the crowd, going over the autopsy results in his mind.

Someone had been stealing Sharingan. It wouldn't make sense for Itachi to do it, he already had the bloodline limit. Unless he was doing it for trade...?

Tenzo shuddered at the idea of Itachi selling Sharingan eyes to the black market, but it has happened before. But no, Itachi's killing had been too methodical for that. The massacre seemed to speak toward a higher purpose, like the culling of a flock of animals, separating the strong and killing the weak. Selling his kinsmen's eyes seemed beneath him.

Tenzo frowned. More than likely, opportunists within the village had knifed the eyes themselves; Tenzo gritted his teeth, wanting to punch the face in of the chuunin scum who thought he could get away with it.

If someone was selling Sharingan to the black market, the village elders had to be told. Tenzo headed toward Danzou's office, determined to tell him what he's found.

xXx

.

"But Danzou-sama!" Tenzo said.

"This does not concern you, Captain," Danzou said. "Your job was to find and capture Uchiha Itachi; the motivations for his crime are not of your concern."

"But he may be selling eyes," Tenzo said. "Or if not him, someone within the chuunin clean-up squad. Surely this is of some importance."

"It is of no importance," Danzou said. "Whoever is foolish enough to use the Sharingan will only be blinded, or worse, killed. Do not trouble yourself," Danzou said. "I will launch my own investigation into the disappearance of the eyes. More than likely they were pecked out by buzzards, but to humor you I will allow the investigation to proceed."

"Yes, Danzou-sama."

"Good," Danzou said. "Now return to your post. I have much work to do."

.

.

**III.**

Danzou watched as the bodies were transported to Root's underground headquarters. Stepping forward, he motioned for his men to kneel and bare their eyes. "Only one sharingan each," Danzou said. "After it is transplanted, you must keep that eye covered when it is not in use; failure to do so will deplete your chakra and result in your deaths."

The Root members bowed their heads, ready to receive their gifts. Danzou made no mention of this to the Hokage; he was fairly certain this sort of thing would be banned, however there were no rules about robbing graves and so Danzou was technically in the clear.

Besides, not using the Sharingan would be a tragic waste. Like skinning the leather from an animal's carcass, each piece of the kill must be used.

"Work quickly, everyone," Danzou said. "The bodies will be picked up for cremation at sunset. We must be sure they are returned by then."

The members of Root glanced up at Danzou, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of discomfort as they looked uncertainly at the Uchiha bodies. Then he set his jaw, shaking the feeling from his mind. _These are the spoils of war_, Danzou thought. Beneath the bandages, he felt the power behind Shisui's eye.

xXx

.

The Sharingan Experiment, as it turned out, was a dismal failure.

His men were being blinded by the minute. Whether by Root's harsh training or their lack of chakra control, Danzou wasn't sure. He felt his own sharingan spin beneath the bandage around his eye, and he silently was grateful for having the foresight to implant only one eye each.

Rectifying the mistake was easy enough. Explaining it to the Hokage, however, was an entirely different matter.

"You mean to tell me six of your men were blinded?"

Danzou frowned as the Third stared at him, angrily. "And it was through a training exercise, no less," the Third said.

"Yes," Danzou said. The Third gritted his teeth.

"You must mistake me for a fool if you think I don't know what's going on," the Third said. "Harvesting Sharingan from the dead. Even this seems beneath you."

"Hokage-sama. You know I only acted with Konoha's interests at heart," Danzou said.

"And how am I to know this wasn't a plan to destroy the Uchiha and take the Sharingan for yourself?" the Sandaime said. "That bandage over your eye, what will I find under there?"

Danzou said nothing. The Hokage seethed.

"Danzou. Leave my chambers immediately. Your sight disgusts me."

Danzou bowed. "As you wish, Hokage-sama."

"Leave!" the Third said.

Danzou bowed again, then turned and shut the door.

.

.

**IV.**

"We have received word about the Akatsuki from an anonymous source," the messenger said. The Third raised his eyes as the messenger presented the scroll.

"Where did you get this?" the Third asked.

"Via hawk," the messenger said. The Third frowned and took the scroll from the messenger's hands.

The writing was neat and nondescript, but the symbol at the bottom made the Third raise his eyes.

It was the ANBU flame. _Itachi._ The Third clenched his jaw.

xXx

.

They met at the forest border at the edge of the Fire Country, the Sandaime having left under the pretense of traveling to meet a few distant relatives. As per custom, the Sandaime traveled with a small coterie of men as his bodyguards, who were easy enough to distract when the time warrented. "Let us stop for now," the Sandaime said. "Eat, rest, and wait here. I will explore just a little further down the road."

There was an old bridge spanning the river in front of him; a man was standing there, waiting, patiently.

The Sandaime stepped closer. He pulled back his hood and motioned to the figure across from him. The figure stepped forward and pulled back his hood.

"Uchiha Itachi," the Sandaime said.

"Hokage-sama," Itachi said. The Sandaime frowned.

Itachi's face was gaunt. Weeks spent on the run had done nothing for Itachi's features, which were weathered and hardened, the creases deepened under his eyes. "I have made contact," Itachi said. He showed the Third the Akatsuki ring, which rested comfortably around his finger. "They say I show promise. That I am a vital new member."

"So I see," the Third said. Itachi smiled, grimly.

"They are targeting the jinchuuriki," Itachi said. "I am not sure what their master plan is, as of yet, but it seems that capturing the tailed-beasts is high on their list of priorities."

The Third nodded, quietly. "And how are you, Itachi? How are you faring?"

Itachi hesitated, before answering. "I am well," Itachi said. He didn't look very well. "How is Sasuke?"

"He is fine," The Third said. "But what I'm more concerned about is you."

Itachi said nothing. Quietly, he moved and pulled something out of his satchel.

"Sasuke's birthday was last week," Itachi said. He handed the parcel to the Sandaime. "I got him this. I don't want you to tell him it's from me, but I think he would like it."

The Sandaime smoothed over the brightly colored paper, which was creased and careworn. He could only imagine how long Itachi had been hanging on to it, hiding the parcel from the rest of the Akatsuki and dreaming of the day he could pass it on to his brother.

"I'll be sure he gets this," the Sandaime said, and Itachi smiled.

.

.

**V.**

A shadow fell on Sasuke as he knelt beside the training post on the ground. He looked up and saw Danzou standing above him, a bandage wrapped around one eye.

"I hear you're quite gifted," Danzou said. He offered Sasuke his hand. "There is a program I head designed for young nin like you. Young nin with promise. May I watch you train?"

Sasuke gulped, overwhelmed. No one had taken interest in him before - it had always been Itachi, Itachi, and Sasuke wanted nothing more than to be recognized as well.

Then thoughts of the massacre flooded Sasuke's memory. He shoved a stick into the ground, ashamed.

Danzou looked surprised. "Sasuke-kun?"

"Go away," Sasuke said. He crouched on the ground again, staring at the pole.

Danzou frowned, then slipped a small card into the boy's hand. "In case you change your mind," Danzou said.

Danzou left, and as soon as he did Sasuke took the card and held it against the light:

It was a drawing of a tree, highly stylized with roots reaching deep beneath the ground. Sasuke turned the card over in his hand, then dropped the card onto the ground.

xXx

.

Tenzo was surprised when the Hokage called him into his office. "I need you to deliver a package," the Hokage said. He handed Tenzo a small parcel wrapped in faded birthday paper. "This was recovered at the scene of the massacre. We believe it was for Sasuke."

Tenzo frowned, examining the package warily. "How could we have missed this?" Tenzo asked. The Hokage shrugged, elegantly.

"A floorboard was overturned by accident; it was well-hidden. Do not trouble yourself with it." The Hokage smiled. "Please make sure Sasuke gets this," the Hokage said.

"I understand," Tenzo said. He slipped the parcel into his satchel and offered the Hokage a low-sweeping bow.

xXx

.

Sasuke was throwing shuriken in the training grounds out back when the ANBU investigator approached. "Sasuke?"

Sasuke looked up. The investigator motioned for him to sit. "We found something that might be of interest to you," the investigator said. He moved, then pulled something out of his satchel.

Sasuke's brow knitted. He looked up at the investigator, who nodded, encouragingly. "Go on. Open it," he said.

Hesitantly, Sasuke pulled back the wrapping paper, revealing a small wooden box underneath. The top was intricately carved, and when Sasuke opened it, he saw a small jade bird nestled inside.

"What is this?" Sasuke asked. He picked up the carving and rubbed his thumb over the smooth edge.

"I think it is a crow," the investigator said.

Sasuke's brow knit. He took the jade carving and smashed it onto the ground.

xXx

.

Tenzo jumped back. "Sasuke-kun, what's gotten into you?"

"I hate crows," Sasuke said. Fat, angry tears fell down his face. "I hate them, I wish they'd just _die_."

Tenzo watched helplessly as Sasuke's small body shook. Awkwardly, he reached out and patted the child on the back. "What kind of birds do you like?" Tenzo asked.

Sasuke sniffed. "I don't like birds," Sasuke said. Tenzo smiled.

"Well how about a cat?" Tenzo asked, and he clapped his hands together. Wood sprang up from the ground in the shape of a kitten. Sasuke's eyes widened.

"There. Better than that crow, right?"

Sasuke nodded. He took the wooden kitten and pressed it to his chest. Later, as Tenzo watched the boy walked back, he picked up the shattered pieces of jade and slowly collected them back into the box, wondering what had set the boy off.

It wasn't until later that he realized the bird had rubies for its eyes.

.

.

**VI.**

Two days after the massacre, the bodies were burned, bright stacks of them on fire and set into a fiery blaze. Around them, the villagers had gathered, clutching each other's hands and watching as the embers floated on the up-current and kissed the nighttime air.

Now, Sasuke knelt in the midst of the Uchiha ruins, and with his fire jutsu started a modest flame. In it, the birthday parcel curled and the old man's strange calling card blackened and charred. Sasuke watched, the flames reflected in his eyes, and wondered if his heart too would shrivel up like so much paper.

In the darkness, Tenzo waited and the Sandaime prayed. And in Danzou's chambers, Shisui's sharingan spun.


	6. Part II: Invisible Men

_Author's note: any reference to Itachi's lover is referring to Shisui from the chapter, "Braid." Again this is just my personal head canon, so any discrepancies with the current story arc in canon should be ignored.  
_

* * *

.

**Part II**

She was supposed to be a present. A well-meaning, albeit liquor-inspired present, but a present nonetheless. Itachi stood, his face a perfect stone, while Kisame pushed the prostitute forward.

"No," Itachi said. Kisame was about to protest when the younger man turned, his cloak billowing as he left. Kisame turned to the prostitute and shrugged.

Waste not, want not, as they say.

xXx

.

There was precious little that Kisame knew about his partner: that he slept irregular hours, and that he preferred not to kill. The rest was all speculation. "It was a _gift_," Kisame said. Itachi was delicately using his chopsticks while Kisame huffed in front of him. "In all the years we've been together, I've not once seen you with a woman. I just thought I'd go ahead and help you with that problem of yours."

"And what problem would that be?"

"Your woman problem. Or should I say _lack_ of woman problem," Kisame said. "Come on, it's shameful! Being a part of the Akatsuki, and still a fucking virgin-"

"You would be wrong," Itachi said. He folded his napkin into precise squares, then proceeded to put away his bowl. Kisame gaped.

"When the fuck did you have sex?" Kisame asked. Itachi didn't answer. "What, back in Konoha?"

Kisame searched his partner's face, waiting for some flicker of emotion: irritation, exasperation. Maybe even a little bit of anger. There was none. Kisame snorted. "Let me guess. You fucked a girl and then you killed her. Right?"

"Yes," Itachi said, quietly. To anyone else, Itachi's face betrayed nothing. But Kisame was his partner. He knew better. "I abstain because I do not wish to sully her memory. You would do well not to pry."

Kisame watched as Itachi quietly put away the rice, then folded his hands back into the pockets of his hakama.

xXx

.

Kisame had no qualms about being a missing-nin. He enjoyed the freedom, the money, and most of all the reputation that came with it. Kisame liked to be feared. It made him feel alive. He wasn't sure if he could say the same about his partner, however.

"A kid?" Kisame stared as Itachi stood, face as still as imperial porcelain, as he ushered in a crying whining brat from the last village over. "The fuck are we supposed to do with a kid?"

"We give him safe passage to the next village over. It will not take more than a day."

Kisame was about to complain when Itachi gave him that very special look that brooked no argument. Itachi was the stronger of the two. If he wanted, he could eyeball Kisame into another dimension. Kisame figured he shouldn't risk it.

"Fine," Kisame said. "But don't blame me if Samehada comes swinging."

"Noted," Itachi said.

xXx

.

As it turned out, the kid was some kind of orphan. Something about bandits killing his parents or whatever. Kisame didn't really care. "Oi," Kisame said. "Brat."

The kid looked up at him, wide-eyed and terrified. Kisame leered. "Want to see my sword?"

"Enough," Itachi said. He knelt down beside the child and offered him a bowl of rice. Kisame watched as Itachi seemed to transform into a completely different person. He was smiling. This was something new.

"I bet he'd taste good," Kisame said. He was bored now, leaning against a tree and watching as Itachi played house. "How about we barbecue him? Eh?"

The kid clung to Itachi's leg.

"Hey, kid." Kisame's eyes narrowed. "Did you know your friend's a murderer?"

"Kisame." Itachi's eyes flashed. Kisame grinned.

"Killed his whole fucking family, and you know what? He just might kill you, too."

xXx

.

They found a washer woman the next village over, and the kid disappeared, the crowd swallowing him whole. The entire trip Itachi said nothing. Kisame wondered if he had finally crossed a line. It was evening when Itachi finally spoke.

"Why did you say that?" Itachi said. Kisame looked up.

"What? So you're speaking to me, now?" Kisame said. Itachi's eyes narrowed.

"Why did you tell him about my past?" Itachi said.

"Tch. I don't know! I thought it would be funny," Kisame said. "Look, I didn't mean to piss you off. I just wanted to give that damn brat a scare, is all."

"I see." Itachi settled beside him, pulling his cloak tight around his arms.

They sat silently for a moment. Then Itachi finally spoke.

"He reminded me of my brother," Itachi said. "When he was young, that is."

"Oh." Kisame poked the ground with a stick, feeling slightly guilty.

And that's when he started to wonder.

xXx

.

Kisame's checklist of things he knew were growing:

Itachi was not a virgin, but he was practically like one. And despite outward appearances, he didn't mind kids. He was not violent and he hated to kill. So why the hell would someone like that kill his clan?

Itachi's explanation was bullshit. "Measure your capacity? What, like a fucking thermometer?"

Kisame was drunk (again), and Itachi was frowning. He pried the bottle of sake from Kisame's fist and helped Kisame stand. "Who forced you?" Kisame asked.

"Forced me to do what?"

"To, you know. Kill. Everyone." Kisame squinted as the shapes seemed to blur and shift together. It made him vaguely seasick. "You're like a fucking Boy Scout, you know that?" Kisame said.

"I've been told as much."

"You don't even have sex," Kisame said. Itachi sighed, then slung him over his shoulder.

When Kisame woke up, hours later and with a raging headache, he added "patient" to his list, and wondered vaguely what the clan did to piss Itachi off.

xXx

.

Kisame was jealous of Itachi's skills. He never missed when he threw his kunai, always catching the target squarely in the center.

They were running again. Hunter-nin were hot on his trail and Kisame was struggling to keep pace. "Shit! Itachi!"

The younger man turned. His eyes flashed crimson; the men around them fell like leaves.

For obvious reasons, Kisame counted himself among the lucky. If it were Deidara, there would be a ham-fisted attempt at Blowing Shit Up; Sasori would probably just leave and who the fuck knows what Tobi would do, he'd probably just laugh like an idiot and clap his hands.

Itachi was good with kunai. Insanely good. Itachi threw kunai better than most men could breathe.

xXx

.

They were trailing the jinchuuriki from the mist when Kisame heard Itachi cough. Loud and wet, and falling to his knees. "Oi! Itachi-"

"I am fine." Itachi's face was pale and his skin was clammy, and Kisame knelt beside him, pressing a palm to Itachi's forehead.

"Shit. You're burning up," Kisame said. Itachi's eyes fluttered closed and Kisame hoisted his partner up, moving him to higher ground.

"My bag," Itachi said. Kisame turned and found the bag, digging through its contents. A half dozen bottles of herbal medication shoved in the corner.

"Itachi, what the hell-"

"The medication," Itachi said. He coughed, violently. Kisame watched, helpless as Itachi plied healing chakra to his lungs.

It was the first time Kisame had seen Itachi ill, but apparently he had been sick for years. "Why the fuck didn't you say anything?" Kisame said. Itachi smiled weakly.

"I did not want to worry you," Itachi said. Kisame snorted.

"Bullshit. You thought I'd fucking bolt."

"Wouldn't you?" Itachi watched him, evenly. "I am a liability," Itachi said. "With my affliction, I could die in the midst of battle-"

"You mean a knife to the gut can't do that, too?" Kisame said.

Itachi smiled. "I suppose I am too used to us winning," Itachi said.

xXx

.

Kisame was no idiot. He knew when a man was ashamed.

And so Kisame did his best not to make too big a fuss when Itachi coughed, instead sneaking cough drops into his pack or pushing an extra bowl of soup his way. Itachi for his part always seemed grateful for Kisame's thoughtfulness.

"Drink it," Kisame said. He pushed the tea toward Itachi. Itachi did; if he were the sort of man to make a face, he would.

"It is bitter," Itachi said. Kisame grunted.

"It's from the mist. It helps with colds."

"This isn't a cold," Itachi said. Kisame rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Drink it," Kisame said. "We can't 'hide in the darkness' with you hacking up a lung."

Kisame figured the Akatsuki didn't really need to know.

xXx

.

"Giddy," wasn't quite the description Kisame would use to describe his partner when they found out Sasuke was the main attraction at the Chuunin exams, but if Itachi didn't have such exquisite control over his emotions, Kisame was pretty sure he'd be grinning like an idiot right about now.

"It is as to be expected," Itachi said. His eyes were dancing. Itachi always smiled with his eyes. "He will make the Uchiha proud."

Kisame wanted to point out that Itachi was the only other living Uchiha around, but he didn't want to spoil his partner's mood.

That was the thing that bothered Kisame the most: it was generally common knowledge that Itachi had spared his little brother to take his eyes. The other Akatsuki believed this to be a given, but Kisame had his doubts. He didn't see Itachi as the type of man to covet what he didn't have. "Why don't you just kill him now?" Kisame said. "Get him while he's young and get it over with."

Itachi's face darkened. "He is not yet strong enough," Itachi said. "If I am to take his eyes, he must be stronger."

But Kisame couldn't see it. Itachi was too soft for that sort of thing. Granted, his powers were considerably greater than Kisame's - or the other Akatsuki's, for that matter - but if Uchiha Itachi were anything, he wasn't selfish. Stealing little brother's eyeballs? Selfish.

Kisame also noted how Itachi became considerably more cruel whenever his brother was around. Taunting him. Tormenting him. It was a universal rule that whatever cruelty and malice a man had, it would be a pervasive thing: Hidan's religiosity colored everything he did, as did Deidara's art and Tobi's ineptitude. Itachi was not cruel.

"Oi," Kisame said. "How come you always pick on him, anyway?"

"On whom?" Itachi's eyes flicked upward briefly.

"That kid. Your brother. Christ, what is he, twelve?"

"You are lecturing me on the finer points of brotherhood?" Itachi seemed amused. "Kisame. I would have thought you of all people would understand."

"Yeah, because of the two of us, I'm the one who's the callous bastard," Kisame said. "That kid's got it out for you. If you don't watch it, he might come calling your name."

"I plan on it," Itachi said.

"For his eyes?"

"Yes," Itachi said.

Kisame was doubtful. The other Akatsuki members shrugged it off.

"He wants the Eternal Mangekyo, so what?" Deidara said. "His voodoo eyes aren't good enough."

Kisame figured it best not to say anything more.

xXx

.

It wasn't until after the Third Hokage was murdered that Kisame began to glean the truth. "Why?" Kisame asked. Itachi paced, agitated, as Kisame watched confused. "I don't understand, why do you need to speak to them?"

"Because I must." Itachi's face was pinched. "I must make sure my brother is okay."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Kisame asked. Itachi didn't answer. "Itachi, dammit. I'm your partner. If we're going to expose ourselves, I deserve to know why!"

Itachi's eyes flicked upward. His mouth was a tight line. "Kisame. I will answer any questions of myself that you ask. But do not ask me this," Itachi said. "Please."

He had never heard Itachi say please before. Kisame nodded, mutely.

xXx

.

After their altercation in Konoha, after Kakashi flashed his sharingan and Gai insulted Kisame by not remembering his name, they made their way back to the outskirts of the city, where Kisame started a fire and sat squarely on a log. "Itachi," Kisame said. "Talk."

Itachi blinked, owlishly. "Sorry?"

"You said I could ask you anything I like, right?" Kisame's eyes narrowed. "Well I have a few questions."

"Fine. What are they?"

"Why'd you kill them?" Kisame asked. Itachi stiffened, visibly.

"I've killed a lot of people, Kisame. You must be more specific."

"The Uchiha," Kisame said. "Your kin. Why?"

"I have already told you why," Itachi said.

"And I say bullshit," Kisame said. "You cry in your sleep, did you know that? Fucking pisses me off, crying like a goddamn baby. And don't think I can't hear you," Kisame said. "I sleep in the same room."

"My apologies," Itachi said. His hand was shaking. Slowly Itachi closed his eyes.

"What if I told you it was an accident?" Itachi said.

"Tch. That's some accident," Kisame said.

"Then what if I told you I killed them in my sleep?" Itachi said.

Kisame froze. Itachi was looking at him, dark eyes probing silently.

"You're shitting me," Kisame said, but he wasn't sure. Itachi said nothing. Slowly he tossed another branch into the fire.

xXx

.

The thing about the sharingan is, it made its users extraordinarily good liars.

Kisame reminded himself never to play poker with him, since he would probably lose.

xXx

.

"Kisame," Itachi said, and Kisame turned. Itachi was standing at the cliffside, watching as his younger brother and his team leapt over riverbanks trying to find him. "Today is the day Sasuke and I will face each other: I will need you to stall the others. Do you think you can do that?"

"Of course," Kisame said. He grinned, then clapped Itachi on the shoulder. "You must be happy! All those years, waiting for that brat. Now you get to use his eyes!"

"Perhaps," Itachi said. Kisame didn't like the way he said it. "You are right to say I am happy, however."

xXx

.

When Madara finally revealed himself, and when he showed Kisame the body, Kisame was shocked, to say the least. Itachi's dead eyes were staring up at the sky, body bruised and battered and blood at the corner of his mouth.

Kisame stood over the body, awkwardly, while Madara sharpened his kunai. "You let the brat win," Kisame said, finally. "You always sucked when it came to kids."

Itachi's eyes were still open. Clumsily, Kisame reached a large hand and closed them, wondering when the hell Itachi started looking so frail.

Behind him, Madara shifted, readjusting his mask and slipping his kunai back into its holster.


	7. Godhead

.

_"I am too pure for you or anyone. Your body hurts me as the world hurts God." - Sylvia Plath_

_._

_.  
_

"It is a symbol," Sasori said. "A symbol of our strength, as well as our unity."

"It's _nail polish_," Deidara said. He glanced up at Itachi and Kisame, who were watching him, silently. "You guys don't actually expect me to _wear_ this shit, right?"

Kisame grinned. "Oi, Itachi," Kisame said. "How about we just rip those fingernails off?"

xXx

.

Deidara threw his things in the corner, then sat heavily on the bed. His new room was less than inviting. The walls were gray and the wooden floor was cool from the draft coming in through the cracks in the wall.

Slowly, Deidara pulled out the small vial of nail polish and held it to the light. Purple. Deidara crossed his eyes. The fuck did he join again?

There was a knock on the door. "What?" Deidara said.

The door opened. Slowly, Sasori maneuvered himself inside, his large body just barely fitting through the door frame. "There is a meeting," Sasori said.

"I just got here," Deidara said.

"Get your things," Sasori said.

Deidara glared, then threw on his cloak. He had only managed to paint two of his fingernails.

xXx

.

Apparently today was the rare day all of the Akatsuki members were gathered in person, and as such, was a cause of some celebration. "Thank God," Zetsu said. His white half was speaking. "I hate doing projection techniques!"

"Projection techniques?" Deidara glanced back at Sasori, who was ignoring him and picking up a bowl of rice from the table.

"It is when we project our chakra across great distances; it is a means to communicate." Zetu's dark half nodded toward Deidara as if in greeting. "You are the new member?"

"Yeah," Deidara said. He wondered silently how the fuck a plant could talk, much less have two voices. Before he could comment further, Zetsu sank into the ground, disappearing into the floor.

Deidara glanced around him. It was a fucking freak show. In the corner, one member was impaling himself with some sort of stick, while his partner was plucking the stitches in his arms. Beside them, Sasori ambled with several plates of food stacked up on his arthropod's body, pieces of rice falling onto the floor as he walked.

Deidara's eyes swept across the room, toward Kisame and Itachi. Kisame was easily the tallest Akatsuki in the room; he towered over his partner, leering menacingly in the shadows. In comparison, Itachi looked delicate, almost feminine, entirely out of place with the freak show surrounding him.

Deidara groaned, inwardly. He had been bested by the shortest fucking Akatsuki in the room.

"What's wrong?" Sasori said. His eyes slid upward to meet his. "You are not eating."

"Hmph. As if I'd want to eat this shit," Deidara said. "Probably fucking poisoned. Hmph!"

Sasori rolled his eyes, then ambled toward the table.

The door opened. The members looked up, faces catching the light as their Leader walked into the room.

But Deidara wasn't looking at the Leader. He was watching the kunoichi following after him.

"Oi, who's she?" Deidara asked. Sasori glared.

"She is our Vice Leader, Konan," Sasori said.

"Huh," Deidara said.

xXx

.

Deidara didn't know half the fuck of what they were talking about; something about jinchuuriki, he wasn't sure. His eyes wandered as the other Akatsuki members listened solemnly, stone still and watching as their Leader stood at the head of the room.

Deidara was impressed by the number of piercings their Leader was sporting. Maybe he'd look good with a few nose piercings, too.

"Pay attention!" Sasori hissed. Deidara glared.

"We have a new member," the Leader said. He nodded toward Deidara and motioned for him to come to the floor. "Deidara of the Rock."

"Yo," Deidara said. The other members stared.

"He specializes in explosive techniques and is the newest partner of Sasori no Danna; treat him well. He will be integral to our newest plans."

"See that?" Deidara said. "I'm fucking _integral_." Sasori ignored him.

Deidara puffed his chest and glanced back at the kunoichi, Konan, and flashed her a pointed grin.

Konan ignored him, too.

xXx

.

The one good thing about being an Akatsuki, other than getting to use his art, was the money. Shit. Deidara _loved_ the money. He could fucking roll around in it, make a bed and sleep in it, he had more money than he knew what to do with.

The other members dealt with their money all differently: Sasori liked to keep spare notes tucked in the crevices of his puppets or stuffed in each of his hollow legs. Kisame gambled and Hidan used it in his sacrifices; Konan used it to buy more nail polish.

Deidara wasn't sure what the fuck Zetsu did with his money. The fuck could a plant buy, anyway?

As for himself, Deidara was smart: he kept his money in several secret accounts, all under different names and all accessible from different parts of the country. And once a month, he'd furtively send a check to his little sister, who was still living in Iwakagure. He made sure to send the checks under different names, so that she wouldn't know they came from him.

If she knew they came from him, she'd probably burn the checks and stomp them on the ground. Deidara knew she was pretty stupid that way.

xXx

.

One morning, Deidara woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and swinging his feet over the bed. His feet landed squarely in the middle of a huge puddle in the middle of the room. "Shit!"

Deidara jumped back. His room was flooded. It had rained the night before, and rainwater had seeped through the cracks of his shitty room.

"This is fucking bullshit!" Deidara said. He had spent the better half of the morning bitching to Sasori, who was busy trying to ignore him. "My fucking room is _flooded_, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

"Wear boots," Sasori said. Deidara glared. Behind him, Hidan laughed. Kakazu walked in, puzzled. "What is he complaining about, now?" Kakazu asked.

"The brat can't stand rainwater," Hidan said.

"Because I can't use my explosives! They're wet!" Deidara said.

"Whatever," Hidan said.

"You should use another room," Zetsu said. His lighter half was speaking. "Itachi and Kisame are away on a mission; you could use one of theirs."

"_Kisame would eat him alive_," Dark Zetsu said.

"Then he should use Itachi's," Light Zetsu said.

"What? No fucking way!" Deidara said.

"_He should use Itachi's. Then he will not complain as much._"

"Then it's settled," Sasori said. "Move into Itachi's room."

"No," Deidara said. Sasori's eyes narrowed.

"Boy. Either you sleep in there or you stop complaining. Because if I hear one word from you, I swear I will slit your throat and find someone else in your stead," Sasori said. He leaned closer, beady eyes glaring. "It has happened before."

"Fuck," Deidara said.

xXx

.

Deidara set his satchel of explosives squarely on Itachi's desk, and silently surveyed the room. Like his, Itachi's room was bare: gray stone walls and a cold wooden floor. There was a blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and on the nightstand, a few small papers stacked neatly under the lamp.

Deidara frowned, and started undoing the sheets to the bed. There was no fucking way Deidara would use the same bedsheets as Itachi used. He threw them in the corner, then replaced the sheets with his, which were still soggy at the ends from dangling over the water on the floor.

After Deidara was finished tucking in the bedsheets, he stood up and paced a little, wondering if he should just say 'fuck it' and go to Kisame's room. Then he remembered Kisame could probably eat him, and decided he should probably just stay here, for now.

Deidara flounced onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It's been a while since he and Sasori had been on a mission, and Deidara was hoping they would be called away before Itachi came back. The last thing he would need was the fucking Uchiha walking in on Deidara sleeping in his bed. Fuck that shit, Deidara thought. Briefly, he contemplated sleeping outside, except that it was still raining, and Deidara didn't like the rain. It was what got him here in the first place.

Deidara leaned over, then pulled open the little drawer in the nightstand. Again, there were a few small papers, mostly hotel invoices and a few miscellaneous items: a hairband, a few senbon, a paring knife. Deidara frowned and began pawing through the papers when his hand felt something sticking out from the corner of the drawer.

Deidara sat up, then carefully pulled the drawer out. There was a false bottom. Curious, Deidara emptied the things onto the bed and tapped the bottom open.

There, taped to the wooden plank of the false bottom, was a small photograph. It was faded and the edges were bent. Squinting, Deidara pulled it out and held it up to the light.

It was a photograph of a man and a woman and a small boy. They were smiling. Beside them, a younger man stood, but the face had been scratched out roughly. Deidara frowned.

"It is a picture of my family," Itachi said. Deidara jumped.

"Fuck!" Deidara said. He jumped out of the bed, throwing the photograph on the covers. "You're supposed to be away! The fuck are you doing here?"

"It is my room," Itachi said. "And we completed our objectives early."

They stared at each other for an uneasy moment. Deidara fidgeted, slightly. "Oi, I wasn't snooping. I'm only in here because Sasori told me to, he said he'd cut my throat if I didn't-"

"I know," Itachi said. He moved past Deidara, setting down his pack and shrugging out of his cloak, which was heavy and wet with rain. "Sasori already spoke with me about this particular arrangement. I cannot say I am pleased, however with your ability, I realize it is important to keep your clay dry. You cannot ignite your chakra otherwise."

Suddenly Deidara wished it could be as simple as just leaving his clay in Itachi's room, but they both knew Deidara's chakra was just as tempermental and easily smothered by the damp as any other explosive. Deidara would have to stay here, as well. "You can have my room," Deidara said, lamely.

"I would rather not," Itachi said.

"Hmph," Deidara said. Slowly he gathered up Itachi's things and started replacing them back in the drawer. "I wasn't looking," Deidara said. "Honestly I don't give a shit, I was just bored."

"I see," Itachi said.

"This is your family?" Deidara asked. He was caught; he might as well go for broke, now.

Itachi stared at him, stonily. "It is," he said. His eyes flashed red.

"And this guy? Is this you?" Deidara pointed to the man whose face had been scratched out. "Because if it is, that's pretty fucking creepy."

Itachi's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe I'll stay with Sasori," Deidara said.

xXx

.

If Deidara wrote to his sister, his letters would read like this:

_Dear Sis,_

_I just joined a criminal organization where most of the members are either plants or monsters or fucking psycho, and now I'm rooming with the guy who made me look like an ass in front of everybody else. By the way, it keeps fucking raining. I'll never get my own room_.

But Deidara didn't write letters. His sister wouldn't give a fuck about his suffering. His sister would rather forget that Deidara was alive.

Deidara was all set to move back into his room and deal with the leaking piece of shit walls when he realized his bedsheets were still tucked firmly into Itachi's bed. So Deidara slunk back, pissed off and defeated, his room now with rainwater up to his knees and fucking Itachi back early from his mission.

Deidara was about to push open the door when he saw Itachi sitting heavily on the bed, his eyes lowered and turning over the photograph in his hands.

Deidara was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. Even if he hated the guy, he wasn't the type who would burst in on an obviously private moment. God knows Hidan and Kakazu did that to him more than once, and Deidara hated the insensitive pricks. Slowly he moved back, then quietly shut the door.

xXx

.

"You take too long!" Sasori said. Deidara glared as his partner stood irritated at the forest's edge, fingering a kunai and glaring dangerously.

"It was difficult," Deidara said.

"Because you were not prepared; you wasted your time and mine," Sasori said.

"Hmph," Deidara said. His arms ached and his chakra reserves were low. He was pissed off that he'd have to get lectured on top of it.

It was still raining. Rumor had it that the Leader was the one making it rain: someone had been trying to infiltrate the Akatsuki hideout, and to better manage the periphery, the Leader cast his special rain jutsu around the cave. Of course, that just meant Deidara's room, and now Hidan and Kakazu's, would remain flooded and molding.

Zetzu, of course, loved the rain. Yet another reason why Deidara couldn't stand the fucking plant.

For the most part, Deidara was just beginning to tolerate the Uchiha. He was a good roommate: he was clean, he didn't snore, and most of all he didn't pry into Deidara's business. Deidara appreciated that. Plus, after seeing him with the photograph, Deidara began to suspect Itachi's past was similar to his own.

Deidara had been chased out of the Rock. All he had wanted to do was further his art, but because the jutsu was forbidden, he was forced to become a missing-nin. It was less than ideal: he would have rather had his art help the village, but he supposed helping terrorist organizations wasn't so bad, either. Especially since he could see his art go off with a bang.

His sister, of course, was ashamed of him. He didn't blame her, really: if he were her, he'd be ashamed of himself, too.

Deidara frowned, picking at the sleeves of his cloak. He had a fucking good gig going: he was making money and he was using his art. So why the fuck was he so depressed?

Sasori was not very sympathetic. "You think too much," Sasori said. "You don't spend enough time training."

But Deidara couldn't help it. Sometimes, during those rare moments when he was thinking too hard, he'd turn over a ball of clay in his hands, absently kneading it against the table. Its weight was soothing to him, and occasionally he'd let his hand take up the clay, rolling it around in the mouth of his palm.

The air was damp. Normally, Deidara would set off a small explosion just to make himself feel better, but the clay had taken up the surrounding moisture, and it was rendered unsuitable for detonation; it smoldered under Deidara's chakra, black smoke wafting out from Deidara's palm.

It was just as well that it didn't burst. The Uchiha probably wouldn't appreciate his room being on fire, anyway.

xXx

.

Deidara was sitting with Kisame, who was chewing on a dango and staring up at the sky, when Deidara asked, "So what's your partner's deal, anyway?"

Kisame squinted. "What do you mean?" Kisame asked.

"I mean, the shit with his family. You've seen the picture, right? What happened? Did they throw him out?"

Kisame stared. "You don't know?" Kisame said.

"What?" Deidara said. Kisame's mouth stretched into a lazy grin.

"He fucking killed them," Kisame said. "All of them. He slaughtered his whole clan."

Deidara stared. And stared. And his hand tightened into a fist.

xXx

.

He got the story through starts and spurts: that Itachi had slaughtered his kin just to see if he could do it. "All the strongest shinobi, and he killed them all," Kisame said. There was a touch of pride in his voice, as if Kisame was pleased to have such a badass partner all to himself. "Fucking wiped the floor with them, and you know what? He's got a little brat of a brother running around, and he's gonna steal his eyes, too."

People have accused Deidara of being selfish, of killing people for the sake of his art. But before he left Iwakagure, Deidara had never intentionally killed anyone outside of his missions. He only wanted to learn the jutsu, nothing more.

But Itachi? Sparing his little brother just to steal his eyes?

"The fuck is wrong with him?" Deidara said. Kisame grinned.

"Who knows," Kisame said. "Maybe you should ask him yourself."

xXx

.

It was then and there that Deidara decided he hated Uchiha Itachi. He humiliated him, yes, but he also made a mockery of his entire clan. That to Deidara seemed fucking unconscionable.

Deidara managed to effectively avoid Itachi for the next few days. Thankfully, the Uchiha slept irregular hours and was hardly in his room, only coming in to grab a change of clothes or replenish the items in his pack. Deidara had unrolled a small mat and pushed it against the wall, but still, the room was horribly cramped. Deidara wondered if maybe Itachi had gotten claustrophobic: god knows Deidara was feeling it, even when he was sitting there by himself.

He couldn't bring himself to confront the Uchiha, not just yet. Deidara wanted to make sure he was prepared, should anything come out of it.

xXx

.

Deidara was sitting cross-legged on the floor, scratching out another check for his sister. This time the check would be from one Akihiko of the Rock. Deidara concentrated, writing slowly so that his handwriting wouldn't be too obvious.

"Who is that?" Itachi asked. Deidara looked up and glared.

"Fuck off," Deidara said. Itachi watched him, catlike and curious, before setting down his things.

"You will be relieved to know Kisame and I are going on another mission," Itachi said. "Hopefully by the time we get back, your room will be restored."

"Hmph," Deidara said. He scratched the kanji out vehemently, glaring at the paper. "Maybe I should just stay here and keep annoying you. Hmph."

Itachi said nothing. Quietly he sat on the bed and began folding his clothes. "She probably knows those checks are from you," Itachi said. "You should probably think about dropping the pretense."

Deidara's head shot up. "What did you say?" Deidara said. Itachi tilted his head.

"The woman you are always writing to. Perhaps you should think about checking your accounts, just to make sure she is actually taking your money."

"Teme!" Deidara stood. "What the fuck do you know about it, anyway?"

"Enough to know that sometimes it is easier to cut the ties; anything else is only foolish," Itachi said. Deidara gritted his teeth.

"You would say that; you fucking killed your whole clan," Deidara said. Itachi seemed surprised, but he quickly rearranged his face into a hardened mask.

"There are only murderers in this room, Deidara-san," Itachi said. "I find it ironic that you should sit and pass judgment on me."

"You killed _everybody_, and for no fucking reason!" Deidara said. He shot up in Itachi's face, glaring. "I do what I do for my _art_. Nothing else. But you? Fuck! I've heard of some fucking insane-as-shit reasons, but yours is the fucking _tops_."

"Careful," Itachi said.

"Or what? You're gonna use your voodoo on me?" Deidara said. "I don't like you," Deidara said. "Unlike you, I know what family is. So if you even think about saying one word about my sister, I'll-"

"What?" Itachi said. "Blow me up?"

He was mocking him now. Deidara glared.

"I am leaving soon," Itachi said. He slung his pack over his shoulder. "Do not stay up."

xXx

.

They were sparring under the gray-dark sky, the rest of the Akatsuki members giving Kakazu and Hidan a wide berth. Deidara hung back, pushing wet strands of hair out of his eyes and watching, silently. With his scope, he adjusted his sight, focusing on Kakazu as he impaled Hidan's chest with his spear. Hidan grinned good-naturedly-Deidara could almost hear him mouth the words, "If I could die, I'd be dead!"-while the other members stood, black cloaks wet and heavy with rain.

"You see?" Sasori said. He had crept up behind him, his wooden body damp and creaking, slightly. "They are happy because they train. You would do well to learn from them."

Now the Akatsuki gathered, a throng of black cloaks circling the rock. Sasori grunted, then slowly walked toward them, his heavy body swaying under the rain.

The nail polish was starting to chip. Deidara absently picked at one dark-tipped nail with the edge of his thumb, frowning and thinking about unity, and all the things the word should mean.

That night, Deidara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection. His face was pale and his eyes were rimmed with black circles, and he wondered silently were he to see his sister, if she'd be afraid.

Fuck this shit, Deidara thought. He should go and fucking train.

xXx

.

Deidara was in the shed, furiously trying out his new technique, when the door opened. It was their Vice Leader, Konan. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Experimenting," Deidara said, which was true: Deidara was working on a technique that he hoped would kill Itachi. "I'm experimenting with different levels of chakra; I want to see how well they control the blast."

"I see." Konan's body rippled, like paper folding and unfolding in front of him. Silently, Deidara wished she were his partner instead of the their Vice Leader. She was more of an artist than Sasori could ever hope to be. "There is a mission," Konan said. "We need you to capture the jinchuuriki of the Sand; Sasori is from Suna and knows the terrain. And with your particular talents, we think you should be successful."

Deidara pressed the clay hard into the table, then rose to meet her eyes.

"When do we start?" Deidara asked.


	8. Prelude

.

.

He wears a necklace: small pale beads delicately threaded on a silver chain. Konan discreetly tries to peer underneath the collar of his cloak, but Itachi catches her gaze.

"I was betrothed." The answer to an unasked question. Itachi's eyes flick upwards, meeting hers. His fingers ghost the pale beads around his neck. "She gave me this."

He makes her feel uneasy, something that Konan loathes to admit, but now she's found herself making unwitting conversation with the man the other Akatsuki give a wide berth. Out of courtesy she allows him the conversation. "What happened?" Konan asks. She wonders idly if maybe she died a tragic death; maybe she was the reason Itachi was so cold.

"I killed her," Itachi says. Konan's eyes widen.

"You seem surprised," Itachi says. His eyes bore into her, and Konan wants to shrink into herself, burst into pieces and scatter into the wind. "You are wondering why I wear this necklace; you speculate about my past," Itachi says. He takes a step forward, and Konan flinches, despite herself. "What if I told you she bored me?" Itachi's voice is soft, menacing. His red eyes burn like coals. "What if I told you I wear this as a reminder not to waste my time?"

"Then I would say you are unnecessarily cruel," Konan says. Itachi smiles. It is not a nice smile.

"The world is cruel, Konan." Itachi turns, the outline of his body beginning to shift. "You of all people should know that."

Konan stands, speechless as his voice is drowned out by the sound of wings, the crows scattering around her.

xXx

.

"He's a fucking eyesore!" Deidara says. He rubs his neck, glaring. "Walking around he's like a goddamn legend or something. Hmph! Fucking prick. I hate him!"

"We know," Sasori says, and Konan's mouth thins. Deidara has been ranting for close to an hour now, the veins in his neck distending and his face turning red.

Konan's mind begins to drift. She watches as Tobi claps and Zetsu melts into the walls, and just behind them, Itachi stands at the corner.

She can't help but wonder about him. Though he has been in the Akatsuki for several years, he is still distant. Other. He is always courteous of the other members, and he's careful not to resort to needless violence, but even so the others regard him warily, almost suspiciously. Konan suspects it has to do with the massacre. Though the rest of the Akatsuki had similarly bloodstained pasts, the knowledge of Itachi's killing spree gives him a particularly menacing aura: unlike the others, he didn't have a real motive. He simply felt like it. Konan's eyes focus back on Deidara, who also belabors the point.

"No fucking reason!" Deidara says. He's pacing now, hands gesturing wildly. "He goes and kills them all for no fucking reason, and I'm supposed to sit here and pretend that's okay? Hmph! It's bullshit!"

"You killed people for 'no fucking reason' yourself," Sasori says.

"I had a reason! I had my _art_!" Deidara's voice rises to a fever pitch. Konan turns away.

"My _art_!" Deidara shouts.

Konan pulls her cloak and walks out of the cave, keeping her eyes set straight ahead of her.

xXx

.

Nagato is getting weak. Crouching, Konan offers him a glass of water, pressing it against his lips. "Please," Konan whispers. She tilts the glass, the palm of her hand on his forehead. "Please, drink for me," Konan says. "Nagato."

His eyelids flutter; his mouth moves soundlessly, words like paper in his throat. Slowly, Konan sets the glass down and sidles closely to his body. He's in there somewhere, but for now he's etiolated, motionless; pale eyes closed and covered in a milky haze. She wonders quietly what would happen if she were to squeeze the delicate joints of his wrists, tiny and birdlike and breakable in her hand.

xXx

.

"Why do you follow him?"

Itachi is watching her, quietly with cat-like eyes. Konan bristles with energy, her skin peeling like paper. "Who?" Konan asks. Itachi's eyes are rimmed by shadows.

"Our leader," Itachi says. "Why do you follow him?"

"Why do you?" Konan says. It's a perfectly valid question; Itachi appears to consider.

"Because it suits my purposes," Itachi says.

"And what would those be?" Konan asks.

"To keep the peace," Itachi says, and his voice floats, calm and unfettered like the gentle slope of a grassy hill. "I believe that is why you joined, if I'm not mistaken."

There's something pointed about the way he says it; Konan's skin is covered in gooseflesh. Nagato has never made his plans public to any of the other members; all they knew (or thought) was that the Akatsuki's aim was to destabilize the regions and make profit out of war; that Itachi saw past this was unsettling.

"Nothing gets past your eyes," Konan says. Itachi nods his head.

"You have not answered my question," Itachi says.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I am curious." Itachi's eyes are different somehow. Probing, but less impersonal. The detachment is almost gone. "You are not like the others."

"I am a woman," Konan says. Itachi's mouth quirks.

"Beyond that," Itachi says. "They call you God's Angel. I find it curious that an Angel would want for war."

"You said so yourself, Uchiha; war can be cleansing, if used in the right way. Didn't you say you're here for peace, as well?"

"Perhaps I was being facetious," Itachi says. His eyes grow cold. "I do not appreciate you watching me, Konan," Itachi says. "You would do right to keep out of my way."

"You're mistaken if you think I care," Konan says. She steps forward, glaring. "Uchiha Itachi," Konan says. "You unsettle me. You do not mix well with the other members. If it were not for Kisame you would have been eaten alive. Do not for a second think otherwise; we both know this is true."

She turns and leaves without another word.

xXx

.

"Nagato," Konan says.

"Pein," Nagato says. His eyes open slowly, twin circles of light looking up into her eyes. "My name is Pein."

"Your name is Nagato," Konan says. Nagato breathes but doesn't answer, sinking into himself.

Konan squeezes her eyes, pressing her face against his sallow cheek. Then she stands and leaves, drawing her cloak around her.

xXx

.

That night, she feels a hand brush against her face.

Konan opens her eyes and sees the man who was once Yahiko staring back at her. "We are Pein," Yahiko says. Konan nods mutely and Pein climbs into the bed next to her. She wonders idly how much Nagato feels, if he can experience the sensation of skin against skin, using spare bodies and lying moribund in the dark.

There is no companionship in this, nothing to counter against the loneliness that pervades the small room or the shadows that loom like ghosts.

xXx

.

Konan pushes through the darkness, crying. Paper tears stream behind her like petals as she tries to hide her pain with her ability, shielding herself tightly with a paper shroud. Nagato. Yahiko. Pein. The names swirl and whirl in her mind and Konan can't think, Konan can't act, there's war and there's peace and there's nothing but the bitter taste of being alone.

She nearly knocks into Itachi; were it not for his reflexes they both would have been knocked over.

"Konan." Itachi is alarmed. Konan pushes past him but he's quick; he grabs her by the arm.

"Don't," Konan says. She doesn't have time for his games.

She jerks hard but Itachi grips her harder; if she wanted to, she could have easily broken free, turning her arm into paper and disappearing into a cloud of origami smoke. But Konan doesn't want to. He would probably just trap her in a genjutsu, anyway. "What do you want with me?"

And Konan starts to sob. She barely notices when he folds her up against the space between his chest and his shoulder and whisks her away before the others can see.

He feels surprisingly warm.

xXx

.

Itachi is quiet. When Konan finally pulls away, he lets her; she notices how carefully he keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

"Why did you do that?" Konan asks. Her voice is small. Silently she curses herself for being so weak. As a woman, she has to be twice as strong; as Akatsuki's vice-leader she has no choice. She was caught in a compromising situation; she could be blackmailed, even killed, if word got out: Konan steels herself, waiting for Itachi's answer.

"Your eyes are red," Itachi says, finally. He glances up at her, and she notices his eyes are black. "Are you okay?"

Konan nods, stiffly. Itachi offers her a tissue which Konan clumsily takes; her hands are shaking. "Where is your sharingan?" she asks. Itachi shakes his head.

"You are too vulnerable; I am afraid my sharingan might accidentally hurt you."

Konan wipes her eyes. "That must be quite a change for you," Konan says. Itachi nods, gravely.

"It is like wearing glasses, then suddenly taking them off," Itachi says. "Without my sharingan it is as if all the world is unfocused to me."

It makes sense. He has not used normal sight in quite some time.

They sit for an awkward moment while Konan tries to collect her thoughts, struggling to process everything that's happened. Without his sharingan, Itachi's eyes are different. More gentle, somehow. But then the rest of his face has softened too, and Konan finally understands why he cordons himself off from the others.

They're sitting close, and almost without thinking, Konan reaches up and touches the necklace around Itachi's throat. He starts to flinch, but seems to catch himself; he almost seems to hold his breath while she traces the pale beads. She doesn't even notice when her fingers come to rest on the hollow of his throat.

"You loved her." Konan searches his eyes. "Why?" she asks. _Why did you kill her? All of them? Why did you betray the rest of your kin?_

"The same reason you wish for war," Itachi says. Konan nods, mutely. She traces the line of his jaw, pushes the hair out of Itachi's eyes.

"To protect the peace," Konan says.

"Yes," Itachi says. He gently moves her hand.

xXx

.

They sit like that for what seems like years, Itachi cat-like and quiet while Konan struggles to gather her thoughts. Finally, Konan musters the courage to look at him, channeling what little strength she has left.

"Thank you," Konan says.

Itachi smiles and his eyes crease closed; they remind her of two twin folds of origami paper.

xXx

.

There is a loneliness that pervades her small room, seeps into the fading afternoon light and the curtain of autumn rain.

Itachi is dead. Nagato is dead as well.

Around her, the citizens of Amegakure turn, delighted, as the rain begins to dissipate; the clouds part and the sky brightens, sunlight glinting off the puddles on the ground.

Konan pulls off her cloak, paper wings unfurling, and turns her face upwards to face the sun.


	9. Afterlife

.

_i._

Heaven is not what Mikoto expects.

The last thing she remembers is kneeling; her knees dig into the tatami mat, angry red marks on her skin from the pressure against her joints. Her husband kneels beside her, face shadowed, as their eldest presses his katana flush against his neck.

Itachi's hand is shaking. There is an interesting mixture of fear and the sudden urge to wrap her son up and hold him, because she knows he's being manipulated, she knows he doesn't want to do this, but her husband is defeated and stubborn, and her son is holding the blade, and there's nothing more that Mikoto can do.

"Mother. Father," Itachi says. "Forgive me."

The blade sings. Their bodies fall into a heap on the ground.

xXx

.

It is Mikoto's grandmother who greets her, stands at the gaping light streaming around them. "Mikoto my child. How you've grown." Her grandmother smiles and Mikoto sees Shisui standing silently at the light's outer edge, then the rest of their ancestors lined up as if in greeting.

The rest of the clan wander, disembodied and disaffected, floating upwards toward the white.

Mikoto floats, but glances down. Her grandmother smiles, pressing a hand to her shoulder.

"Do not worry, my child. Young Sasuke will be joining us soon."

_What?_ Mikoto turns and snaps her focus downwards, down toward her two sons. Itachi is steeling himself for the kill and her youngest is shaking like a leaf. Her grandmother watches silently.

But he doesn't; he can't. Sasuke is alive and Itachi runs, his shadow disappearing into the fog. Mikoto launches back into the earth after him, the light receding into itself; her husband follows after Sasuke, and for that Mikoto is grateful.

And so it is in the murky hours just before daybreak, she floats above Itachi, wraith-like and invisible, as he kneels at the river's edge. His katana is sheathed; his hands are steeped underwater. She watches as Itachi washes his hands dully, methodically, his eyes blank and his face smudged with dirt and grime. Slowly he sinks his hands further, and Mikoto's heart stills as she watches her eldest start to cry.

.

_ii._

A mother watches. Even after death, Mikoto is tethered to the earth by invisible strings, watching and worrying.

Sasuke is battered, traumatized. Though his brother had not touched him, he is wounded far worse than any shinobi she had encountered. She is heartbroken, watching as her youngest is herded off to the orphan dormitories so famous among the nin: Konoha has no shortage of orphans, as children of nin run the risk of losing not one, but both parents. And so it is, the day after the massacre, Sasuke is ushered into one such dormitory, the well-meaning woman smiling kindly and unlocking the door.

"Do you know how to use a stove?" she asks. "Children who can care for themselves have the option of living alone."

Mikoto watches silently as Sasuke struggles to pay attention. His eyes are puffy from crying; she knows he hasn't slept since Itachi told him to run.

It's a small studio apartment; a large room with a small island dividing the kitchen from the rest. There's a bathroom with running water and a small patio by the window. The woman unrolls the sleeping mats, allowing Sasuke to sit. "There is a communal laundry room in the basement," the woman says. "You are also given an allowance for food or clothes. We take the children to the market once a week."

Sasuke kneels on the ground, touching the mat with his fingers. Mikoto knows what he's remembering: how she and Sasuke sometimes went to the market together. Sometimes she bought him a snack to eat while they walked, picking out vegetables and the like.

Her heart aches for him. She steps forward, then presses an invisible hand on Sasuke's back. He doesn't feel it, though, because he stands up and rubs his arms.

"You should know, you may end up getting a roommate," the woman says. She smiles, kindly. "Right now we have enough space so that you have your own place, but in the future, that may not be possible."

More orphans. It pains Mikoto's heart. She watches as her son nods, numb.

"And of course, if you can't cook, we have a communal dining hall on the first floor," the woman says. "The cafeteria isn't much, but it helps. Especially in the early stages."

"Thanks."

Sasuke hugs himself. The woman ruffles his hair. "I'll let you unpack," the woman says. "I'll be checking on you soon."

That night, Sasuke cries in his sleep. Mikoto lies down next to him, covering him in her warmth. Slowly she murmurs into his hair and rubs soothing circles against his back until finally he stops shaking. "Mom."

Mikoto stills. Sasuke breathes softly, the chill of his breath arcing up into the cold air. "Mom..."

"I'm here, Sasuke," Mikoto says, though she knows he can't hear her. Mikoto presses a hand to his forehead. Sasuke sighs softly, then falls back asleep.

xXx

.

In their heaven, there is a small pond with koi fish that swim in placid circles just beneath the surface of the water. Fugaku has taken to watching them, standing under the cherry trees and watching the petals fall onto the water.

Her husband may be content with watching fish, but Mikoto continues to watch the living. It makes Fugaku angry.

"I don't understand why you're so obsessed," Fugaku says. "They'll live and they'll die, and then I'll go and give Itachi what he deserves!"

"And what would that be?" Mikoto is tired. Fugaku glares.

"A kick in the ass and a hard scolding! Hmph! No son of mine lets himself get used!"

"Only my husband would be angry about his son getting used, and not the fact that his son was the one who killed him," Mikoto says. Fugaku mutters under his breath and feeds the fish.

"It's Konoha's fault," Fugaku says. "Itachi was just a pawn."

Mikoto smiles. Fugaku glares.

"What?" Fugaku says.

"I am happy you are not angry with him," Mikoto says. Fugaku mutters and throws a piece of bread into the pond.

xXx

.

Half a world away, her eldest presses a kunai to his wrist. He is pale and there are bruises under his eyes, which are red and swollen from crying. Mikoto's heart stills as a drop of blood forms, beading at the tip.

He can't do it. Mikoto is relieved. She watches as her son shakes and presses his fist against his eyes.

Mikoto had been there when Itachi reported to the Hokage and the council elders the fruits of his mission; she had followed him from the river, hands still damp from washing away the blood, floating soundlessly as he entered the Hokage compound and met them with a sweeping bow. "Is it done?" Danzou asked.

Itachi kept his eyes lowered. "No," Itachi said. The elders stirred and the Hokage stepped forward. There was a hopeful look on his face when he asked, "Then there are survivors?"

"Yes." Itachi's voice was soft. He looked up, bloodshot eyes meeting his. "My brother, Sasuke."

"I thought as much." The Hokage's face was sad; pale. Mikoto watched silently as the elders stirred among themselves, whispering furtively.

"We must dispose of him." Danzou's voice rang out. Mikoto's eyes widened. "You were given explicit orders not to leave any survivors."

"I am a survivor, Danzou-sama." Itachi's eyes were kept carefully on the ground. "Do you wish to dispose of me?"

Mikoto could feel Danzou's fear creep inside him like a vice. Itachi spoke, softly. "I did what you asked of me. Now I ask you to protect my brother; if you do not, I will share all your secrets to all the rival nin across this land, and the hidden villages over. Do not take me lightly."

The Hokage nodded. "We will do as you ask," the Hokage said. Danzou looked up sharply. "Hokage-sama!"

"Enough!" the Hokage said. "It is because of you and your foolishness that this boy has slaughtered his own clan. You will not speak so long as I am here."

Danzou glowered, then stepped back with the rest of the elders. The Hokage knelt, facing Itachi who was staring at the ground.

"How can we help you, Uchiha Itachi?"

Mikoto pressed her hands against him, protectively, while the elders glared.

"Do not tell Sasuke the truth of this," Itachi said. His voice dropped, low. "I would rather he hate me. I cannot bear the thought of him thinking poorly of our clan."

"If that is what you wish." The Hokage stepped forward, touching Itachi on the shoulder. "We will take care of him," the Hokage said. Mikoto shook with rage.

_But Itachi_, Mikoto thought. _Who will take care of you?_

_._

_iii._

Her husband is angry. "All he had to do was listen," he says, but Mikoto knows it is his helplessness that fuels his rage.

The dead do not congregate. There are others, Uchiha that float in, spectral and fleeting, but Fugaku stays near, waiting as Mikoto visits the earth.

To her surprise, Fugaku begins to visit often, watching Sasuke during the Chuunin exams, then watching Itachi as he threatens the elders of the council. "I thought you don't like watching," Mikoto says. Fugaku turns and glares.

"Someone must watch our idiot sons."

xXx

.

In his quest for vengeance, Sasuke forgets to pray at their shrine; around their photographs, candles go unlit, and Mikoto and Fugaku find it more difficult to re-enter their home.

"Has he forgotten us?" Mikoto asks. She tries not to weep and the sky cracks with her tears.

"At least Itachi is still praying," Fugaku says, and they both peer from the clouds as their eldest furtively lights candles and prays to a makeshift shrine.

Madara is still alive. That fact alone makes Fugaku fill with rage. "Coward!" Fugaku says. "Using a child for his own ends!"

"I thought you said Itachi was no child," Mikoto says. Fugaku glares.

Mikoto never liked how Fugaku pushed his eldest; Itachi was too gentle to be nin. Even as a child, he was content to stay at home by Mikoto's side, watching awestruck as Mikoto cooked their meals or set the table. Fugaku used to grab Itachi angrily by the arm and press a kunai into his hands. "That is woman's work, Itachi. You must go and train."

Mikoto and Fugaku used to argue when Itachi was young. "You are pushing him too hard!" Mikoto said. "He's only a child!"

"He is nin; he has already graduated the Academy," Fukgaku said.

"He's _seven_!" Mikoto said, but Fukagu didn't listen.

One day, Mikoto was washing dishes when she heard the door slide open. It was Itachi. His face was smudged with dirt, and his small arms were covered with bruises. "Itachi?"

"Mom." Itachi's face was still round, not having yet lost the baby fat clinging to his cheeks. Mikoto knelt beside him and looked at his hands. They were caked in dirt and covered in blisters.

"Itachi, you are training too hard. Let me put some balm on these. Here." Slowly, Mikoto led Itachi to the sink and carefully wiped his hands with a warm cloth, then bandaged the blisters up. Behind her, Sasuke toddled forward. "Itachi-nii! Were you training?"

Sasuke tripped and landed on his knees. "Omph!" Sasuke said. His little face crumbled, like he was going to cry.

"Sasuke!" Mikoto turned, but Itachi had beat her to it: he helped his baby brother up, who responded by giving Itachi a huge hug.

"You are a good big brother, Itachi," Mikoto said. She gently took Itachi by the hand. "But we must make sure you are okay as well."

Tears stream down Mikoto's face as she remembers. Her heaven is just a cage. All Mikoto wants to do is to tell Itachi she still loves him, wants to hug Sasuke and keep him safe. She wants to bundle them both up, her foolish children, and hold them in her arms.

But she can't. All she can do is watch quietly, waiting for her sons to die.

Her heaven is just a cage.

xXx

.

_iv._

Itachi dies. His soul bleeds out from his body and limps upward, making its way hesitently toward the white.

His ancestors do not line up as they did for Mikoto and the others; they float away, disinterested, so Mikoto stands by her perch and waits as her eldest makes the slow and painful trek upwards.

Mikoto is the first to greet him. Even in death, Itachi's soul is battered, a small, flickering light waning in the dark. _So this is the toll you took while you were alive_, Mikoto thinks. Slowly she rises as she watches her son stiffen visibly; he is expecting her to reject him.

She throws her arms around him and hugs him, tight. "I've missed you!" Mikoto says.

"Mother..." There are tears in his voice, but Itachi does not cry. Mikoto strokes his hair, proudly.

"You've grown," Mikoto says. They embrace for a long time, and when they finally part, Fugaku is standing, arms crossed and frowning.

"Father." Itachi steps forward. "Father, I-"

The blow that comes stuns Mikoto and Itachi both. Fugaku frowns, disapprovingly.

"Idiot," Fugaku says. Then he reaches over and gives his son a gruff hug. "Welcome back," Fugaku says. They turn and watch as Sasuke is shepherded off by Madara, still unconscious below them.

xXx

.

That night, Mikoto rests by Fugaku, leaning her head against his chest.

"Now we just have one idiot son to worry about," Fugaku says. He presses a hand against Mikoto's head and shifts her weight against his chest, frowning. "Itachi is watching him tonight. I told him it'll only make him angry, but he never listens." Fugaku grunts, fondly. "He takes after his mother that way."

Mikoto smiles a little at her husband's bluntness, then starts to close her eyes.


End file.
